Diary of an Illicit Affair
by LoveBugOC
Summary: Chapters of an affair, through the eyes of two lovers: an unfaithful husband and his mistress. Rated for Mature subject matter. Eleven-part series. Dramione.
1. An Attraction

Hello, hello!

It feels like forever since I've posted anything, I don't know what's wrong me. Actually I do; I've been working on this story, here! (I like to write the entire thing, all chapters included, before I post it so I know that I have it all finished and whatnot..)

Anyway, first thing's first: I just want it to be known that I do not condone what this story is obviously about. I don't condone cheating or anything of the sort, don't care who you are or where you're from. I've never been cheated on myself, but if I was I'm fairly certain I would punch somebody… However the idea just sort of popped into my head, danced around for a couple days and finally I decided to just see where it took me – and this is story is the result. It will be posted in 11 parts, and although everything is written, not everything has been edited so there will be a wait-time.

The idea I had was to take a simple, extramarital/illicit affair and explore it – how it would happen, why it would continue to happen, etc. And despite being against affairs in general I started to think about it in a different light, so to speak. For example, affairs are often times more about sex and excitement and all that fun stuff, but I imagine a lot of times they can turn into a relationship of their own.

That's what this story is mostly about. It's definitely about an affair, but it's about the relationship that forms within the affair. Get it?

I dunno. Like I said, the idea just sort of came to me and wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote about it.

Enjoy

* * *

**Diary of an Illicit Love Affair**

_Chapters of an affair, through the eyes of two lovers: an unfaithful husband and his mistress._

X

[One: An Attraction]

_April 7, 2005_

**Monday morning**comes far too quickly for Hermione Granger. For a woman who normally likes Mondays, because it means following routines and rules for the next five days, she finds that she is truly dreading going into work this morning. For the rest of her life, really. She just simply is not looking forward to facing a certain blond coworker of hers, who has done nothing but ridicule, humiliate and make her life a living hell for the last five years – 15 years if you count what he did to her during school. Especially after certain events had taken place Friday evening, after which she spent the rest of what was supposed to be a calm and relaxing weekend trying to remove the memories of that particular event out of her head.

_[The way his hands ignited little sparks across her skin. The way his mouth devoured her own, hungry and desperate and oh-so dominating. The way his fingers felt as they-]_

She has yet to even come up with an excuse for her actions – let alone an explanation for _his_. Her mind had gone foggy the moment he kissed her. And his hands were just so...distracting. She could hardly tell up from down, forget telling him to stop. Not that she had wanted to because, well...

Her mind is still foggy. And her thoughts are still distracted. And she swears her skin is _still_on fire. Needless to say she isn't all prepared for this particular Monday morning.

Which is why she will find herself rushing into her office late for the first time in her entire career.

She takes a 25-minute shower instead of her usual 15 – so she uses magic to dry and do her hair rather than letting it dry on its own.

What usually only takes five minutes to choose an outfit, takes 20 – because nearly everything she owns seems entirely too revealing now.

By the time she leaves her flat, she's nearly a half an hour late. She walks into the Ministry building with her head down and makes her way straight to the elevator. When she gets off the elevator on her floor, the secretary bids her good morning, which she returns quickly as she walks past the desks and down the hall towards her office.

Once inside, she shrugs her jacket off and hangs it on the hook on the back of door and sets her purse across the room on her desk. She rushes about her office and gathers a few file folders out of the top drawer of her desk before rushing down the hall to the board room.

**She manages** to make it through the morning without running into him. It was simple enough, really, considering he's been especially busy with work these days. She knows that her lunch hour will be the most difficult time to get past, seeing as he takes his lunch at the same time. Still, she remains hopeful.  
Her hope, however, is crushed when he corners her in the kitchen on their floor. She'd made the mistake of traveling alone.

She closes the fridge after pouring herself a glass of water and the sight of him leaning back against the counter startles her. She jumps back, clutching her chest with her free hand. His arms are crossed over his chest, his legs are crossed at the ankles and he's wearing that unbelievably attractive smirk on his thin, pale lips.

"You've been avoiding me."

"Oh? Seems I'm doing a terrible job then," she retorts, walking past him.

He's fast on her heels, following her as she travels back to her office. "I don't like to be ignored or avoided, Granger."

"I don't like to be followed, Malfoy. We can't always get what we want." She turns to him when they reach her office, looking at him expectantly. She'll be damned if she has to spend time alone with him on a room.

He stands in front of her, looking cocky and smug as he cocks his head to the side.

"Leave."

"No."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. But I'm not inviting you in." Turning on her heel, she walks back into her office and closes the door behind it, locking it in an attempt to keep him out. When she turns around, she's startled – again – to find him leaning against her desk. She glowers at him. "You're impossible," she mutters.

"You didn't honestly think locking the door would keep me out, did you? I am a wizard, you know."

"Yeah. And an annoying one."

He lifts his hand to his chest, resting it above his heart with a look of mock hurt plastered to his perfect little face. "You wound me, Granger."

"Good. Now get out of my office," she demands.

"Aw, c'mon, Love. You don't _really_want that. Do you?"

His gaze is heavy. Intense. Captivating. She can already feel herself melting before him.

_[A slow, shaky breath. A gutteral groan. Hard, desperate thrusts. Skin slapping against skin. Whispers and moans and cries. More. Harder. Faster. Draco.]  
_

In lightening-like speed, he closes the gap between them. He strokes her cheek with the back of his knuckles on his right hand and tugs at a curl with his left.

"Stop," she breathes.

He ignores her, gazing at the curly lock of brown hair he starts to twirl around his finger. "Why've you been avoiding me?"

"You know why," she whispers. She wants to move away from him, to put as much distance between them as possible but her body won't comply to what her mind is demanding of her. _Step away. Tell him to leave. Run._

"Tell me," he whispers, lifting his penetrating grey eyes to bore into hers. She tries to focus on the tiny blue specs hiding in his eyes, but the feeling of his fingers trailing down her neck and across her collar bone are distracting. He leans in, tilting his head next to hers as his lips graze her ear. "Tell me. Say it, Granger," he murmurs. His breath is hot and sticky and oh-so-inviting against the side of her face.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up and her abdomen tightens at his words. She feels warm all over; hot way down there, and her knees are beginning to buckle. Her body is betraying her. Again.

"Please go," she whimpers, with what little dignity she has left.

A low chuckle escapes his throat as he pulls back enough to look her straight in the eye. "As you wish."

When he leaves, leaving the door open behind him, she lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She practically falls into her chair, leaning forward with her head in her hands as she takes a few deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm down.

Damn Draco Malfoy.

**The rest**of the day moves far too slowly. At around 1:30 p.m. She's called back into the board room. This time he's there too, sitting at the opposite end of the table. She feels his gaze on her the entire time, and whenever she chances a glance in his direction, he continues to stare. His gaze is hot and cold at the same time, loaded with lust and desire.

She fights the pull in her body trying to coax her into leaping across the table at him with everything she has.

When the meeting is over, she runs back to her office and far, far away from him.

X

_April 10, 2005_

**Everywhere she**goes, she sees him. And every time she sees him, he's staring at her like he wants to rip her apart – or at least her clothes.

She goes out for dinner with Ginny on Thursday, to Diagon Alley. They talk girl-talk – clothes, gossip, relationships. Three weeks after getting married, Ginny is still very much in the honeymoon stage. A part of her is bitter and jealous, but a larger part is so blissfully happy. Especially for Harry.

After dinner, they take a walk down the street and venture into the book store. They part ways, agreeing to tackle the store separately and meet up afterward. As she wanders down the first aisle, sliding her index finger along the spines of the books, she catches a glimpse of blond hair out of the corner of her eye. When she turns her head, however, he's gone. _Great,_ she thinks. _Now you're imagining him. You're losing it, Granger._ She turns the corner and wanders down the second aisle.  
He's there. Leaning his right shoulder against the book case. She glares at him, ignoring the longing glint in his dark, grey eyes. "Why are you stalking me?" she hisses, keeping her voice low as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Why does it matter?"

He doesn't answer; just stares.

She turns her attention back to her initial quest to find a new book, trying desperately to ignore the warm, tingly feeling all over her body. Her first reaction is to be angry and creeped out that he keeps following her. But as she's been thinking about it for a few days now, she finds it sort of...exciting.

Thrilling.

In just a few long strides, he's standing right behind her. She can feel the soft fabric of his jacket brushing against the bare skin of her back; damn her stupid dress for such a low back. The air gets caught in her throat when she feels his breath on the back of her neck, brushing through her hair. Her stomach clenches and her palms begin to sweat.

"Lucky for you, Granger, I know _exactly_why you're avoiding me," he murmurs in her ear.

"O-Oh?" she wonders, cursing the shakiness in her breath. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before spinning around to face him. She glares at him. "And why's that?"

He smirks, taking a single step back. "You can't stop thinking about me."

She blinks, taken aback.

"Which is fine, since I can't stop thinking about you either."

"It was a mistake."

"Hell of a mistake, Granger," he whispers.

"You took advantage of me," she snaps.

"Oh, Granger. I seduced you. There's a difference."

"Not really," she retorts. She turns her back on him and continues down the aisle; he follows.

"I just want to talk, Granger."

She snorts, rolling her eyes. "You're forgetting that I know you, Malfoy. And I know that the last thing on your mind is _talking_."

He smirks, leaning in when she stops go read the back of a book. "You're always so...right."

"Even if I wanted to talk to you – which I don't – I don't have time right now. Ginny's here. But you already know that, don't you?"

"Tomorrow. The little muggle coffee shop down the street from your little muggle flat. Five o'clock."

She turns her head to look at him, and only then does she realize how close he is because his breath is fanning across her face. He smells like peppermint toothpaste. "O-okay," she stutters.

Only after he leaves, and she goes back home alone does she realize she's agreed to meet Draco Malfoy for coffee. Like a date.

X

_April 11, 2005  
_  
**At 4:57**p.m. she decides not to go.

At 5:17 there's a knock at the door and she knows exactly who it is before she even opens it. Standing in her doorway, with his hands in his pockets is the man she's been trying to avoid all week long. He's staring at her – glaring at her, really. He's angry that she stood him up, although he doesn't say it. Just stares, with dark grey eyes full of lust and desire and something else she can't quite read.

She knows she should close the door. She knows she should put an end to this before it goes too far.

Before someone gets hurt.

But all too quickly one of his hands is in her hair and the other is around her waist and he's kissing her hard, rough, passionate. She loses her own hands in his hair, tugging softly as he pulls her body flush against his. He invites himself in, kicking the door shut behind them as they stumble into the nearest wall. His hands are everywhere, all over her body as he tugs at her clothes – ripping her dress shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, to reveal the white lace bra underneath, undoing her skirt and pushing it down her tanned, smooth legs, popping the clasp of her bra with one hand as he hurriedly lifts her off the floor by her bum. She moans into his mouth as he slams her back against the wall, pressing himself, hard, against her.

She rips her lips away from him, panting and throwing her head back as she struggles to catch her breath and he trails hot, wet kisses down her throat. Her chest rises and falls with every breath she takes, pushing against his face as he licks his way across her chest, moving her bra out of the way. Her fingers, thin and clumsy, begin to undo the buttons on his shirt, brushing against the skin beneath the thin fabric as she goes. He grunts in response. And while she pushes the offending material off of his broad shoulders, he shrugs out of it using his pelvis to hold her against the wall.

His lips find hers aggressively, demandingly, as he hoists her up higher on his waist. He makes quick work of both his trousers and his boxers. The sound of his belt hitting the hardwood floor resonates in her ears but she doesn't care. All she cares about is the fires he's igniting on her skin with his fingers as he grips her thighs so hard she's sure he's going to leave bruises. All she can focus on is the hot, clenching feeling in the pit of her stomach and the coil begging to be released as he dry-humps her into the wall. His manhood, long, thick and hard, teases her through the fabric of her knickers.

He uses his right hand to hold her face in place as he continues to kiss her, demanding dominance, as his left delves into her knickers. In one swift moment he pushes two fingers inside her and rubs her clit with his thumb. He has complete and total control of her now – of her pain, of her pleasure.

She's only vaguely aware of the cool sensation of his wedding ring against her hot, wet, sensitive flesh before she comes apart around his fingers. She cries out, bucking into his hand as she rides out her first orgasm. It's like she's flying and falling at the same time.

Within seconds of coming down, he has her knickers pushed to the side and his manhood at her entrance. She squeezes her eyes shut, thrusting her hips forward as she attempts to draw him in.  
His voice is hoarse and shaky when he speaks, his breath fanning over her sweat-slicked face as he presses his forehead against hers. "Look at me."

She does as she's told, brown colliding with grey as he slides slowly into her. He doesn't move at first, giving them both a moment to collect themselves. He smirks when she's the first to move, thrusting her hips forward. "Eager?" he rasps.

She moans in response. "Please, Malfoy," she breathes.

And then it's all hard, rough, powerful thrusts and breathy moans and skin slapping against skin as he takes her against the wall in the front hall of her flat. He drives her so hard into the wall it's painful, but she begs for more.

She's the first to unravel, clamping down around him as she moans his name into his ear and tightens her arms around his neck. He follows immediately after, giving her one last hard thrust as he buries himself to the hilt and drops his forehead into the crook of his neck.

"Fuck, Granger," he pants.

"You just did."

He chuckles, pulling his head back before planting one more scorching kiss against her already bruised and battered lips.

* * *

To be continued..

Thoughts?


	2. Acceptance

Hi again,

Here's the second part! It's just a little tidbit of a chapter though, very short compared to the others. Basically it's just a number of short/cute/hot little moments between our favourite characters – all of which have to do with the same concept of "accepting" their, um, situation. Sort of like a little teaser…

Enjoy

* * *

[Two: Acceptance]

_April 17, 2005_

She looks at him from across her bedroom, lying naked beneath her cotton sheets. "What are we doing? Exactly?"

He's standing next to the window, smoking a muggle cigarette. "Exactly? We're having fantastic sex."

"But why?".

"Why not?".

"Because you're married."

He crosses the room, in all his naked glory, in four easy steps and captures her bruised lips with his own and she forgets that he's married.

X

_April 25, 2005_

"This has to stop," she whispers, cursing the moan that follows as he slips his fingers into the waistband of her skirt.

"You said that last time, Love."

"I mean it this time."

"Do you?"

She closes her eyes as he fingers her clit slowly, pinching it. "Yes.." she breathes.

He grins, sucking her earlobe into his mouth. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard."

X

_May 2, 2005_

He drags her into a broom cupboard like a horny teenage boy. Within seconds her skirt is bunched around her hips and his trousers are around his ankles.

She cries out, but he silences it quickly with a ferocious kiss as he slides into her.

"Quiet, baby," he murmurs against her lips.

X

_May 14, 2005_

"Aren't you happy with her?" she asks him as he begins to get dressed.

"Sure," he answers simply.

"So then why are you pursuing this...affair?"

He looks back at her over his shoulder. "I love my wife, Granger. But I'm not in love with her."

She blinks. "Are you in love with me?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Are _you_ in love _me_?"

"No."

"Then there you go."

X

_May 23, 2005_

"Why'd you marry her?"

He hesitates, twirling a brown curl around his finger as she lays her head on his chest. "It was an arranged marriage, between my family and hers. I was friends with her sister, but Daphne was already promised to Blaise Zabini."

"So you didn't have a choice?"

He hesitates again. "I could've chosen not to marry her, but I had no reason not to want to. She's beautiful, intelligent, polite... I knew she'd make the perfect wife."

"But not lover..."

A silence falls over them.

"You can walk away whenever you want to, Granger."

She thinks about it. About telling him to get his stuff and get out, to leave her alone, to find another lover. But she kisses him instead.

X

_May 29, 2005_

"Oliver Wood asked me out."

He looks up from the paper he's reading, his gaze landing on her bathrobe covered frame as she walks back into the bedroom. Is it just her, or is there a glint of...jealousy floating around in his eyes. "What'd you say?"

"I told him the truth," she replies simply, crawling onto the bed. She sits back on her legs next to him.

His brow furrows in confusion.

"I said I've never thought about him in that way before and that I'd have to think about it."

His gaze narrows. "Just tell him no."

"Aw, is someone jealous?" she teases, poking his ribs.

He grabs her swiftly around the waist as he pushes her back onto the bed so their heads are at the foot, climbing in between her thighs. He hovers over her, his lips ghosting over hers. "I just don't like to share, Granger," he murmurs before ravishing her mouth. "Tell him no."

X

_May 30, 2005_

The following afternoon she finds Oliver and tells him that while she's flattered, she's sort of seeing somebody else. He looks heartbroken but then she catches Draco's eye from across the hall and the pure.

X

_June 4, 2005_

"'Mione?"

Their eyes widen as they both clamber to their feet. She grabs her house coat and yanks it on quickly before turning to help him gather his clothes. He trips over the rug as she ushers him into the adjoining bathroom and closes the door.

On cue, Ginny pokes her head into the room. "Oh, sorry - is...is someone here?"

"No, why? I was just about to take a shower."

"Oh."

"What's up?" she asks her redheaded friend casually.

"Are you seeing someone? Oliver said the reason you said no to his offer was because you were seeing someone." The curiousity in her voice is just a mask for the hurt she must feel for not being told.

"Look, Ginny, I...I'm not seeing anyone," she lies. She doesn't want to lie, but it would be easier to keep it a secret if absolutely nobody knew. Besides, of Ginny knew, she wouldn't rest until she figured out who it was - and quite frankly, she just doesn't want to deal with all the questions. "I only told him that so he wouldn't feel so bad."

Within minutes, Ginny is gone and the bathroom door opens just as Hermione leans back against the wall. Draco looks at her sincerely. "Well, that was close."

"Yeah."

"Now, about that shower..."

She smiles softly as he tugs at the belt on her robe to untie it before pulling her by the flimsy fabric into the bathroom.

* * *

To be continued..


	3. The Honeymoon Stage

Hey there,

I present to you part three! It's just a few fluffy little moments.

Enjoy

X

_[Three: The Honeymoon Stage]_

_June 15, 2005_

**In the** aftermath of a passionate afternoon, Hermione Granger can be found lying on her stomach, her bum covered only by a thin sheet, her legs bent at the knees, and her feet in the air as she reads her new book. Next to her, leaning back against the headboard, flipping through _The_ _Prophet_ with his left hand and stroking one of her calves with his right is Draco Malfoy. They're both sticky and hot and oh-so satisfied.

A tapping noise at her bedroom window alerts them both; a small brown owl is sitting on her window sill with a white envelope – that's bigger than the bird – in its beak. She smiles softly, pushing herself up as she wraps the sheet around her naked body. Giggling as he makes a move to swat her bum, she just barely climbs off the bed quickly enough to avoid him before crossing the room and opening the window.

Draco watches over the top of the paper as she takes the envelope from the owl's beak, pets its head softly and then feeds it a treat before it takes off. She's all slim curves, messy hair, bruised – and smiling – lips and flushed cheeks as she opens the envelope, pulling out a card with the words "Happy Birthday" written in big letters on the front. Her body turns slightly to the side as she opens it, biting unconsciously on her thumb nail as she reads it. An even broader smile forms on her already smiling lips as she walks back to the bed and places the card and it's envelope on the bedside table.

"When's your birthday?"

"Hm? Oh, tomorrow," she replies, looking distracted as she crawls back onto the bed.

His eyes widen in surprise; he'd gathered it would be soon, but _tomorrow_? "When were you gonna tell me?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "It's not a big deal."

"Who's the card from?"

"My parents. They moved back to Australia last summer so I got them an owl since the post is faster."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

She smirks teasingly. "What's with all the questions?"

He smirks back, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nothing, really. I'm having breakfast with the Weasleys and then Ginny and I are going shopping," she replies. "I haven't decided what I'm doing after."

"You're coming out for dinner with me," he tells her simply, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

She snorts. "I am, am I? And how are we meant to manage that with our...situation?"

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Simple. You tell me what your favourite muggle restaurant is, I make reservations and we enjoy a nice, quiet evening."

She smiles softly, propping herself up on her elbow and resting the side of her head on a closed fist. "I don't want to go to a restaurant. I want to go a chip stand."

He raises his eyebrows. "A _what_?"

"A chip stand," she laughs, rolling her eyes. "I'll show you tomorrow."

"Will I like it?"

"Everybody likes chip stands."

"What does one wear to this...chip stand?"

X

_June 16, 2005_

**Breakfast with** the Weasleys flies by. She doesn't spend nearly enough time with them as it is, and yet every time she does spend time with them it seems to be over before it even really starts. As always she enjoys Molly's delicious meal, George's lame – but funny – jokes, Ron and Ginny's bickering and the easy conversations all around the table. She loves the Weasleys like they're her own family, which makes her miss her own family that much more.

After the war, Harry, Ron and herself had gone to Australia in search of her parents to restore their memories. Her parents had been furious with her, at first, but after many weeks of being angry her father had talked her mother into forgiving her. They'd moved back to London and resumed life as Jack and Julie Granger. Two years ago they decided to move back to Australia because they missed the sunshine and the weather and the people – and the animals.

It had been hard, letting go of her parents like that – especially after getting them back, but Australia made them happy. They've agreed to alternate holidays; they take turns traveling, although it's much easier for Hermione to travel. Last year, on her birthday, her parents had surprised her by showing up on her front stoop with breakfast and coffee. This year they were busy, but promised to come down in a couple of weeks for the weekend.

After breakfast, which had quickly turned into a brunch, Ginny drags Hermione away from the Burrow to do some shopping. They go to a mall first for some "muggle" shopping, before going to a couple of thrift and antique stores. In the end, they end up in Diagon Alley for some new robes.

She loses track of time quickly and by the time she realizes she needs to head back home to get ready for her dinner...date with Draco, she finds herself scrambling to gather her bags and think of an excuse to leave. She settles on the old "I'm having dinner with a few coworkers" bit, which Ginny buys before they both go their separate ways.

**A loud** POP disrupts her as she's putting the finishing touches of her neutral eye make-up. She watches in the mirror as Draco materializes behind her. He's looking laid back in dark blue jeans and a plain white tee, with his hair mused and that adorable smirk playing on his lips. She doesn't remember ever seeing _not_ dressed up in a suit – except, of course, he's in a state of plain undress. He looks good, she decides, looking him over through the mirror.

"See something you like, Granger?"

She blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts as the colour rises in her cheeks. "Maybe."

He grins, striding across the room towards her. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," she replies, spinning around to face him. Only then does she realize how hungry she is, when her stomach growls loudly.

He smirks. "Hungry, much?"

"Breakfast turned into brunch, so I haven't really eaten lunch."

"Then we better feed you and your angry stomach, huh?"

"Yes, please." She goes to walk around him when he catches her wrist, pulling her back so her chest is flush against his.

"Happy Birthday," he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to her watermelon lip gloss covered lips.

**"I must** say, Granger, that while it's a little odd that muggles enjoy eating chips out of the back of a truck, I can see why it's so enjoyable," Draco drawls.

They're sitting at a picnic table next to the chip stand, both eating a cheeseburger and chips. At the table next to them is an older couple, probably in their 80's, eating corn dogs. The table behind him is occupied by a set of parents and two twin boys.

It's sort of...surprising how comfortable and laid back he looks sitting here, surrounded by muggles. It's refreshing. It's cute.

"You see?" she giggles. "There's just nothing quite as delicious as the fries that come out of the 'back of the truck'."

"Or as greasy."

"The greasier the better."

He rolls his eyes playfully, grinning nonetheless, as he pops a French fry into his mouth. She smiles back. "So, you come here often?"

She laughs at his lame attempt at a joke before answering. "I actually haven't been here in years," she admits. "I used to come all the time when I was little. Once a month my parents would let me choose a place to eat – anywhere I wanted – and I always chose here. My parents always knew, you know, but they always asked."

He looks hesitant for a moment. "Do you miss them?"

She nods slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Some days more than others."

"Yeah."

Hermione finishes the last of her fries before licking her salt-covered fingers and smacking her lips. "Well, as fun as this has been, I think you should take me home."

He blinks, staring at her in confusion as she begins to gather their empty containers. "What?"

She shrugs. "It's been nice and quiet and everything, but I think I'm looking forward to something a little more...exciting and loud," she murmurs seductively.

The grin that flashes across his face is mischievous and sexy and sends a shiver up and down her spine.

**There's something** calm and simple – and different – about the way he leads her through her own flat. It isn't rushed. It isn't desperate. It just...is. It's slow and it's soft and it's passionate and he hasn't even kissed her yet.

He backs her slowly against the back of the door as he closes it shut behind them, pressing his body against hers as he rests his forearms against the panels next to her head. She slips her arms around his neck, bringing his forehead against hers, their lips just barely touching. Already, she's panting.

He lowers his lips to her slowly and softly at first, enjoying the feel of her smooth, silky skin against his own as he slips his tongue into her hot, wet mouth. She moans the second their tongues collide and it sets the rhythm of a battle for dominance. He buries his hands in his hair, tugging and twirling and tangling as he tries to pull her closer. Her fingers pull at the hem of his shirt before she slides up his body, her fingers gliding against his soft skin and toned abs. Their kiss breaks just long enough for him to help her get his shirt off.

And then they're both stumbling across the room and tripping on the rug in their quest to get to the bed. He's utterly surprised when she pushes him back onto the bed – so much so that he lands on his back and bounces three times on the mattress. Leaning up on his elbows, the muscles in his arms rippling, he gazes up at her.

Her smile is both seductive and innocent, making her look sexy and cute as she gazes back. He is both mesmerized and insanely turned on as she pulls her own shirt off, revealing a black bra with white polka dots, lace trimming, and a single pink bow in the valley between her breasts – it's a bra he's never seen before, he realizes. She's never been this bold or forth-coming, always letting him undress her quickly. When she starts unbuttoning her skirt, he feels himself grow impossibly hard and bites his lip. He's itching to touch her, and when the fabric hits the floor, leaving her in matching knickers, he can't help it. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around the backs of her smooth thighs as he pulls her in between his legs.

She loses her fingers in his short blond hair as he slides his hands up and down her thighs and over her bum and trails open-mouth kisses across her stomach. Tilting her head back, she marvels at his touch and shivers when his fingers skim over the fabric of her knickers. She moans, feeling him so close to where she wants him and feels the smirk his lips form against her hip bone.

She tugs on his hair, pulling his head back gently. He looks back at her with darkened, lustful eyes. Leaning down, she presses her forehead against his. "I wanna be in charge."

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

"You have too many clothes," she murmurs, her hands falling to the waist band of his jeans.

In next to no time at all, he's lying naked on his back in the middle of the bed, watching her as she strips for him. She climbs onto the bed, biting her bottom lip as she crawls towards him – and, Merlin, he'd do anything to be those teeth. He reaches out for her hips as she crawls on top of him, straddling his waist just above the tip of his erection. He looks up at her, captivated by her slow, graceful movements. And then his hands are moving on their own, gliding over her legs and then back up her hips, squeezing her breasts and then around the back of her neck. He pulls her down for a searing kiss – hard, full of lust and passion and something else he doesn't quite recognize – as she moves back against him. He's right _there_, at her entrance, and all he has to is snap his hips forward to find his home inside her, but she's holding his hips down.

"Fuck me," he finds himself whispering against her lips as she pulls back, both of them panting. "Fuck me, Hermione."

And then he's groaning as she slides onto him and her breath comes out in pants as she struggles to recompose what little composure she has left. She's so tight and warm and he almost comes on the spot. His hands find her hips, guiding her up his length and then pulling her back down as he snaps himself forward. She braces her hands on his shoulders as she sets their frenzied rhythm. She moans as she takes him particularly deep, ripping a strangled groan from his throat.

"Fuck, Granger..."

She captures his lips in a chaste, desperate kiss before sitting up on him. Her hands cover his, her fingers intertwining between his as he continues to help her bounce. The new angle rips her orgasm from her seconds later and she comes around him with a breathy pant of his name.

He stops moving, allowing her to come down from her orgasm while giving him a moment to catch his own breath. He stares up at her through his eyelashes, pushing his own orgasm away from him, as she throws her head back. Her messy curls fall down her arched back and her entire body is exposed to him; she's like a fucking goddess. And a _fucking_ goddess.

She leans forward then, resting her forehead on his. "Draco," she whimpers, twirling her hips at the same time.

He understands the message immediately and rolls them over so he's on top. She wraps her legs tight around his hips and the new angle causes them both to moan. He brings their hands, fingers still intertwined, above her head and rests his arms on the pillow beneath her. His body is flush against hers.

He gazes down at her, watching her eyelashes flutter against her flushed cheeks, takes in the site of her bruised lips. "Look at me," he rasps. "I wanna see you."

She complies.

Brown meets grey.

He pulls out slowly and pushes back in slower, drawing a moan from her lips. And repeats. And repeats.

"Faster," she whispers, her voice shaking. "Please-Draco.. Faster."

He moves faster and faster, harder and deeper until they're nothing but skin slapping against skin and moans. He continues to gaze at her, watching what he does to her, watching her as she begins to unravel. "Louder, baby," he growls. "Lemme hear you."

With a few more thrusts, she falls over the edge the edge and brings him with her. He continues to thrust softly, riding out both their orgasms before collapsing completely on top of her. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily, and she curls her arms around his neck, holding him to her. She tangles her legs with his and closes her eyes as he remains inside of her.

And as she loses herself to sleep, she realizes that this is the most intimacy they've shared with one another. It wasn't just a quick fuck. It was almost...romantic.

Almost.

Close enough.


	4. Intimacy

Good day.

First, I would just like to thank everyone who has taken the time to pay attention to this story – in any way, shape, or form.

Second, as someone has pointed out in the reviews, I know Hermione's birthday is in September. I meant to leave a note at the beginning of the last chapter addressing the fact that I changed it to be in June so that the rest of the timeline I wanted would work itself out. (There are certain holiday-like moments I wanted at a specific time.) Call it an AU, if you like..

Thirdly, this next chapter explores a little more of Draco and Hermione's blossoming relationship. And with a little bit more intimacy. Fluff ensues!

Enjoy

* * *

[Four: Intimacy]_  
_  
_June 29_

Sometimes she can't decide which sort of rendezvous she likes the best. The fast-paced, rough lustful kind with hard, erratic thrusts and biting and animalistic growls that throws her over the edge. Or the slow, sensual kind with long, drawn-out thrusts, soft movements and breathy moans that build her up and up and up and then drops her. Both are truly magnificent. Both sides of him are hot and sexy – and she knows he likes both too.

He likes to dominate her, to be in control, to fuck her rough against the shower wall or hard at the kitchen counter when she least expects it. He likes to hear her whimper and moan and beg him to go faster and harder and deeper and he fucking loves it when she screams and writhes with wild abandon. And he likes to draw it out, to make her _feel_, to heighten her senses, to let his hands glide rather than grab, to bury her into the mattress. He likes to get lost in her breathless moans and the way her back arches and he fucking loves it when her mouth falls open in a _silent_scream as she sores over the edge.

X

_July 4_

She's all limp limbs and deep pants as she lays next to him on her stomach. Her skin is shining with sweat and her hair is wet with it as she continues to come down.

He's lying on his back, watching her with a lazy grin. "You okay?"

She hums in response, nodding her head ever-so-slightly as she tucks her arms under her pillow.

He reaches his hand out to tuck a messy curl behind her ear before running the back of his knuckles across her cheek. "You're beautiful, you know."

The flush returns to her cheeks as she blushes, turning her head away from him and tucking her face into her pillow. He is amused by the fact that she still gets embarrassed in front of him.

He shifts on the bed, moving closer to her as he curls his left arm around her waist and props himself up with his right. He drops a soft kiss to her shoulder before resting his chin there, waiting for her to look at him. Three. Two. One.

She turns her head, looking over her shoulder at him as he stares. "What?"

He smiles that boyish smile, and then shakes his head and he kisses her shoulder before continuing down. He leaves a trail of soft, open-mouth kisses over her shoulder blades, down the middle of her back and over her hips. He stops at the top of her round bum and looks up at her to see her watching him.

"You're insatiable," she whispers.

He grins, his lips against her backside. "You're desirable."

X

_July 20_

She's startled when she walks out of the stall in the woman's washroom down the hall from her office; a certain blond is leaning against the sink counter in front of her. Her mouths open in shock as she sputters. "Wh-what are you doing in here?" she hisses quietly. "What if someone walks in? This is the woman's washroom, Draco-"

"Relax, Granger, I locked the door."

She blinks, followed by a subtle nod as she moves forward. She settles for the sink next to him to wash her hands. "I'm not having sex with you in here."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "That isn't why I'm here-" he stops himself, then, looking thoughtful. "Although that's not a bad idea. This is probably the only room we haven't christened," he points out.

She blushes, smiling even as she rolls her eyes. "No. Now what do want?"

"Shacklebolt's sending me to Italy next weekend."

She smiles proudly at him despite the sadness seeping into her bones. That means she won't get to see him at all next weekend. "That's great!"

He nods. "He wants to send a partner with me and I told him the only way I would agree to that is if I got to choose who it would be."

"Oh? Who'd you choose?" she asks distractedly as she dries her hands.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes."

She smiles, suddenly feeling all giddy and happy inside at the mere thought that he's chosen _her_.

X

_July 27_

The arms around her waist are strong and protective. She turns carefully, not wanting to wake the man sleeping next to her. He stirs, but doesn't wake as he pulls her closer. His eyes are closed, his blond eyelashes resting delicately against his cheek. His face is calm and there's a small smile on his thin, pale lips. He looks like a child when he sleeps, she notices. So peaceful and calm. So innocent.

This is the first time she's ever woken up with him. This is the first time he's ever been able to stay.

She presses a soft, tender kiss to the tip of his chin, waking him. His eyelids flutter open, and his smile broadens upon seeing her. She smiles back. "Hi," she whispers.

"Hi," he whispers back groggily. He lets go of her long enough to rub the sleep out of his eyes before settling his arms back around her waist.

"Sorry I woke you."

He shakes his head sleepily. "'s okay." He looks at her, drinking her in. Bed hair – knotty, sexy and elusive. Tanned skin, flushed cheeks. Sleepy eyes. Bruised, kissable lips. And, of course, the cute little imprints on her cheek from the lines in the sheets.

She does nothing but stare back at him.

"You have morning breath," he notes, crinkling his nose playfully.

She looks playfully offended for a second before giggling. "So do you."

"Well then I guess it won't matter if we snog."

"Guess not," she murmurs as he presses his lips against hers.

"Good morning," he breathes against her mouth, closing his eyes.

"I wish we didn't have to leave today."

He opens his eyes, looking into her sad brown ones. "Me too."

X

_August 10_

She walks into her office first thing in the morning to find a red box on top of her desk. On top of the red box is a small card with her name on it, written in handwriting that looks suspiciously like Draco's.

Puzzled, she opens the card.

_I know it's late, but it's better late than never._

Even more puzzled and extremely curious, she lifts the lid. An overly-excited gasp surprises her and she covers her mouth to keep from screaming. It's the newest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_, also known as her favourite books of all time. She runs her fingers over the front cover delicately; she's too afraid to pull it out.

"I see you got my gift," a familiar voice drawls from behind her.

She tears her gaze away from the book to find him leaning against the doorframe, his hands pushed into his pockets. "How did you even get this? It hasn't even been released to stores yet. And why? My birthday was weeks ago-"

He grins, shaking his head playfully at her babbling. "I pulled some strings with the publisher and he let me have a copy early. And your birthday _was_weeks ago, but I never did get you a gift."

She smiles softly, tilting her head to the side. "You didn't have to, Draco. Honestly."

He shrugs indifferently before pushing himself away from the wall. "I have to go. But you can thank me later."

And with a wink, he's gone. Leaving her with butterflies in her stomach and a racing heart.

X

_August 25_

"I don't get it," he declares.

"What's not to get?" she wonders, laughing lightly. He's sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs spread out in front of him. She's sitting in between his legs, with hers bent over top of his. "It's like watching a picture moving in the Wizarding world – only it's longer and has sound."

"It's a complete waste of time, Granger," he scoffs.

"How so?"

"Who wants to sit there and watch a black box with pictures on it?" he wonders, deadpanned.

"Um, everyone? I'll admit, too much TV is bad for you, but sitting down to watch a show for an hour can be fun."

"Fun? Sounds like a riot," he replies sarcastically.

"There's all types of different show genres – just like with books and music," she starts, before going off on one of her little "muggle history lessons."

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches her. She's talking animatedly, waving her arms around and making shapes and gestures out of her hands. Her passion and fire and excitement is written all over her face, dancing in her eyes and lighting up her whole personality. He likes this side of her. He likes getting her all worked up to the point where she loses herself in her passion and her thoughts and her ideas.

And even though he doesn't always listen to what she's saying, he likes to watch.

His gaze falls from her eyes to her lips, watching their motions and movements. They're graceful. Her pink tongue slips out to wet them mid-sentence and he just can't help himself. He leans forward, grabbing the back of her neck with his right hand and pulling her lips to his, silencing her.  
"I like it when you talk, Granger," he murmurs when he pulls back. "But sometimes I like it better when you can't say anything at all."

She giggles as he pushes her back against the mattress and presses the length of his body against her.

* * *

To ben continued...


	5. Reality

Bonjour!

Here's part five! It's a little bit depressing, as the reality of the situation begins to weigh down on our favourite characters. Still kind of fluffy though! Also, there are a couple of other appearances by a couple of other witches…

Thanks again for the reviews and support!

Enjoy

* * *

[Five: The Reality]

_September 3_

**She lays**amongst damp, white cotton sheets, clutching the fabric to her chest as she watches him redress. It's the same every time: boxers first, trousers and shirt next, socks, jacket and shoes. He'll adjust his hair and his appearance in her vanity mirror and then smirk at her as she stares. Then he saunters across the room and kisses her goodbye before he disapparates. And every time, the POP resonates throughout her bedroom, reminding her that she's alone.

He's adjusted his hair in the mirror, making it look neater than it was five minutes ago when he crawled out of bed. He peaks at her through the mirror, smiling inwardly as he catches her watching him – again. Her knotty, matted hair is fanned out around her head like a halo, her cheeks are flushed from their recent activities and her sheets are clinging to her sweaty, sticky skin, hugging all the right curves. One word – beautiful – comes to mind. She is beautiful.

He turns to look at her and she sits up, looking down at her lap as she plays with her fingers. This is always the hardest part about their secret relationship, and it's only getting harder and harder. Him leaving. Her watching him leave. Him knowing she's watching. He sees the hurt and the longing in her eyes and hears the silent question she will never ask in his head. Stay...

She knows he can't stay. She knows he's risking everything just by being here in the first place, by lying to his wife about his whereabouts. It would be stupid and reckless and selfish to ask him to stay. But she wants to. She always wants to because every time he leaves her alone, her heart breaks a little bit more.  
He clears his throat awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck as he cross the room to stand at the edge of the bed. She looks up at him with sad eyes and he ignores the little jolt of pain in his chest. He wants so badly to crawl back into bed with her. So badly wake up next to her like that morning in Italy. But instead, knowing he can't, he takes her face in his hands and kisses her soft, bruised lips. He counts to seven in his head, because if he lets it last any longer he won't be able to stop, and pulls away, resting his forehead on hers. Her eyes are closed and he knows it's because she's trying hard not to cry. Running his thumbs over her flushed cheeks, he pulls away. "Good night," he whispers.

"Good night," she whispers back, turning her head away from him.

The loud POP resonates around the room and rings in her ears as she falls back into the pillows and tries not to cry. She fails.

**He sighs**as he climbs the stairs towards the bedroom he shares with his wife; he has half a mind to go back to the bedroom from which he came. The door is open, as it always is, welcoming him. He lingers in the doorway, his gaze landing on the sleeping form beneath the covers.

His wife. His beautiful, loving, amazing wife. She is perfect. She is everything he could ever hope for a wife, but he longs for another.

Sometimes he wonders why – why he's doing what he's doing. Why he's pursuing this affair when he has a perfectly good relationship with his wife. And then he stops, because thinking about makes it wrong and nothing this _good_should be wrong.

He closes the door behind him as he enters the room and strips of himself of his clothes on his way to the adjoining bathroom. He only takes a shower long enough to cleanse himself of smelling like _her_before finding a clean pair of boxers out his top drawer and climbing into bed.

The sheets feel different against his skin; smooth, but different – not quite right. The air around him smells different, like lavender instead of warm honey. The woman next to him looks different from behind – straight, smooth brown hair rather than curly and knotty and sort of terrifying.

Astoria shifts in her sleep, but doesn't wake.

And as his mind and body succumbs to the darkness calling to him, his heart is elsewhere – wrapped around another woman in another bed.

X

_September 14_

**"So Harry**and I have been talking about having a baby," Ginny tells her as she takes a sip of her tea.

Hermione sputters, choking on her own tea as her mind processes the bit of information. "Really?"

The redhead smiles gracefully, nodding her head in excitement.

"Ginny, that's great! I was wondering when you would start trying."

"Me too," she giggles. "I was afraid to bring up at first because I wasn't sure if he thought it would be too soon, but he's all for it. He even said he was trying to think of a way to bring it up himself – thanked me for taking the first step."

Hermione rolls her eyes playfully. "Typical Harry. He can conquer the world, but when it comes to talking about babies he's too frightened."

"I know!"

Hermione shares in her laughter as they continue to chat over tea and scones.

At one point Ginny stops talking all together and leans back in her chair, regarding her with a smile. "I like you, Hermione. _This_you, I mean."

"This me?" Hermione wonders curiously.

"Happy. Carefree."

The brunette smiles softly, looking down into her teacup. "I suppose..."

"You're seeing somebody."

Her gaze snaps up and she states forward into the knowing eyes of her best friend. She has half a mind to deny it and half a mind to admit everything. Mostly she just wants to be able to talk about it with someone, to get some advice.

"So? Who is it?" the redhead wonders mischievously.

"I can't tell you," she replies sheepishly.

Ginny frowns, leaning forward. "He's not embarrassed or something, is he?"

"No! No, not at all," Hermione says quickly. "He's just...it's – it's complicated. I can't tell you."

"Is it worth it?"

"I...I'm starting to wonder," she admits.

As if on cue, the bell above the front door rings, collecting both her attention and Ginny's. Her heart jumps into her throat and her stomach plummets onto the floor upon seeing who enters the coffee shop.

Draco and Astoria Malfoy.

"Well, well. Look who it is," Ginny smirks.

Hermione nods distractedly, her gaze glued to the couple as they glide towards the counter. He looks just as glorious and charming as ever, with his usual dark suit and slightly mused hair. Astoria looks just as perfect as she always has, wearing a red, form-fitting dress, black cloak and black fascinator. She's beautiful.

An overwhelming sense of guilt and jealousy seeps into her pores.

"Granger?" The woman's voice startles her and only then does she remember she's staring. (It must startle Draco too, because when he looks at her he's shocked – then apologetic.)

She flushes, smiling awkwardly at the witch across the shop.

Astoria smiles back politely, leaving Draco to pay the tab as she struts towards their table. "And Ginny Potter, right?"

Ginny nods. "Hello, Astoria."

"Wow, it's been years since I've seen you two," Astoria comments. "How are you?"

"Astoria, I believe they were in the middle of having a conversation," Draco drawls from behind her as he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hermione's gaze lands on the hand that touches her and she feels sick to her stomach.

"Oh it's no trouble," Ginny replies politely, much to Hermione's dismay.

Quite frankly she'd rather be anywhere else but here. Her breath catches in her throat as she turns away from him. She's afraid to look at him, afraid to speak to him. Afraid to give something – anything at all – away. She can feel his gaze on her.

"Well we must be going anyway," Astoria says casually. "But we should catch up sometime, yeah?"

"Sure," Ginny replies courteously.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Draco beckoning his wife towards the exit as she bids them goodbye. As they leave, she takes a brave glance at them and watches with a heavy heart as Astoria slips her arm through Draco's and leans her body against his shoulder.

And suddenly it's like a wall hits her – or perhaps it's the floor. It's like blinders are being lifted from her eyes and clouds are lifting in her mind. She will never have that with him. _They_will never have that. She'll never get to hold his hand in public or grab his arm in public or rest her head on his shoulder. She'll never get to kiss him hello or goodbye outside of her own home – or supply closets or empty boardrooms.

She'll never get to call him _hers_.

The realization is painful and blinding and she feels tears burning in the backs of her eyes. She will never have him because he belongs to someone else. She's fooling herself for ever even entertaining the idea that he could be.

She's been foolish; fooling herself into thinking she could do this.

She's been manipulated; by the rush and the excitement and pure, unadulterated pleasure.

She feels blinded; by his kiss and his touch and the breathless way he whispers her name.

She feels jealous and heartbroken; for the reality of her situation and the consequences of her actions are finally beginning to weigh down on her.

But mostly she feels guilty; because who did she think she was, sleeping with a married man?

Moments after Draco and Astoria leave, Hermione tells Ginny she isn't feeling well and goes home to think.

X

_September 17_

**She avoids**him for three days before he corners her in a very familiar supply closet.

Thinking has got her absolutely nowhere.

She _knows_ it's wrong, what they're doing – what they've _been_ doing. She knows she should've ended it after the first time, when she had the chance. She knows she shouldn't have let him seduce her – and that she shouldn't have _liked_ it. She knows that if she were a decent human being – hell, a decent _woman_– she would respect Astoria enough to walk away. To end this...stupid, reckless – beautiful, addicting – affair.

And if she could think straight, she would.

But she can't. Because every time she thinks about it – about him – she thinks about his hands and his lips and his hair. She thinks about the way he feels above her, beneath her, inside her and around her. She thinks about his voice and his eyes and his boyish smile when he's teasing her and his sexy smirk when he's, well, being sexy. She thinks about the way he holds her and plays with her hair and strokes her skin – and the way he laughs at her horrid jokes.

She thinks and thinks and thinks and then...she stops.

She's in way over her head now; far too deep to just...walk away.

Still, she isn't ready to face him. So when he corners her, pushing her into a _very_familiar supply closet, she isn't at all prepared.

"You're avoiding me," he murmurs, his warm breath fanning over her face. "Again." He looks confident and territorial; looks very much the way looked all those months ago as he accused her of very much of the same.

Her breath catches in her throat as she steps back and her back hits a shelf behind her.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" she asks softly.

His gaze visibly softens as he steps towards her, placing his hands on her hips. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "If I knew you were in there I wouldn't have-"

"It isn't just about that."

"Then what's it about?"

"I... I can't do this right now," she decides. "I have work to do." She pushes gently on his chest and to her surprise he steps aside and lets her pass. A small part of her relishes the fact that, for once, she's the one leaving him behind him. But it still doesn't make her feel any better.

**He's waiting**for her when she gets home; sitting at her kitchen table. She freezes in the doorway, cursing herself – for the moment – for opening the wards for him. He watches her as she finally walks into the room, putting her purse on the counter. She grabs a glass from the cupboard above the sink and fills it up with water.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, his voice low and tender.

She sighs, turning to face her. "What do you want, Draco? Why are you doing this?"

He blinks, looking confused and taken aback by the aggressiveness in her voice. It's a different sort of aggression than he's used to. "What are you talking about?"

"This – us! What are you doing with me?"

His face is blank for a moment as he considers his response. And then, as he always does when faced with a serious situation, he smirks it off, using his character and charisma to distract her. "I'd think that's fairly obvious, don't you?"

He tilts his head to the side in that adorable way of his – that way that makes her putty in his hands – but she closes her eyes and shakes her head, willing herself to be strong; not to succumb to him. "I'm serious."

He sighs. "Look, Granger-"

"You're married, Draco!" she exclaims suddenly. "You have a wife! And she's beautiful and she's intelligent and she's perfect and I'm..."

"Perfect. Intelligent. Beautiful," he murmurs, and suddenly he's standing directly in front of her, so close she can smell his fabric softener.

"But I'm not your wife."

"So?" So…he doesn't really mean that. It's just the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

"So...what are we doing? What are _you_doing?"

He considers her, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. "Honestly?"

She nods slightly, looking back at him with wide, curious, fearful eyes. Fear of what, she isn't exactly sure.

"I don't have a clue," he admits, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I don't have a damn clue what I'm doing or why I'm doing it. I just...I can't stay away from you, Granger. And I _know_you can't stay away from me," he whisper, leaning into her. His lips are millimeters from her own, hovering and teasing. "Otherwise you wouldn't be looking for excuses to call this quits."

"I don't have to look very far," she points out. "She has your last name." She crosses her arms over her chest protectively, putting a barrier between her body and his.

"If you want me to leave, I'll leave. Can't say I'll particularly enjoy it, but I'll leave. If you want me to," he repeats.

_Yes_, her mind agrees, _leave. Go away. Go home to your wife and your marriage and your life_. She knows what she has to say. She knows what she _should_ say. And, then, she knows what she _wants_ to say. _[Stay. Don't leave. Never leave. Leave your wife and marry me and be with _me_.]  
_

When she doesn't say anything he takes her silence as a sign and turns away from her. He collects his jacket off of the kitchen table and takes his wand out of his pocket to ready himself for disapparation when her small, slender hand stops him.

She pounces on him when turns back to face her, crushing her lips upon his and winding her arms around his neck. He responds immediately, one hand around her back and the other in her hair as he deepens the kiss.

He groans into her mouth as he pushes her against the edge of the counter. She moans when the small of her back hits the edge, her fingers losing themselves in his hair and tugging softly. He slips her skirt off quickly, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of black fabric before pulling her shirt off over head – too hurried to unbutton it first. A giggle escapes her throat when he lifts her onto the counter and wedges his hips between her thighs.

His hands are just everywhere, gliding and grabbing and pulling, outside, inside. She's like putty in his hands, weak and bendable and willing to do and be anything he wants her to. His lips travel down her throat as he slides his hands up her thighs and she throws her head back, clutching the back of his head. She gasps as he slides her knickers to the side with his oh-so-skillful fingers, touching her tenderly exactly where she needs him. He rubs her softly at first, coaxing her as his lips travel down the valley between her breasts. Her moans, as she arches her back and pushes her hips into his hands, make him dizzy and desperate for more. Her breaths come out in short pants as she whispers words of encouragement – more, faster, harder, _yes_. He complies, his thumb rubbing her clit quickly while pumping his fingers in and out. Her hips jerk, her fingers clench and her entire body begins to shutter as she begs.

"Please," she whimpers.

"I know," he murmurs, his lips finding hers once more as he curls his free hand around the back of her neck, holding her head up. "Let go, baby," he rasps against her mouth, pressing his forehead against hers.

She lets go, crying out her release, shuddering around him. Her entire body shakes and quivers as he coaxes her orgasm out of her, whispers sweet-nothings in her ear. She lets her head fall into the crook of his neck as she comes back down, burying her face into the collar of his work shirt.

He pulls his hand out of her knickers and brushes the backs of his knuckles across her thigh, soothing her. She hums against his neck and he chuckles in response , kissing her shoulder softly. "Take me to bed," he whispers.

She nods against the crook of his neck and wraps her legs around his waist. Knowingly, he curls his arms around her back and carries her to the bedroom.

It's the last thing she [he] should do. But, somehow, it's the only thing that makes sense.

* * *

To be continued...


	6. Hardships

Hello hello,

I think this next part is what I can call the climax. You know, the part where pretty much EVERYTHING goes wrong. So I feel it's only fair to warn everyone that EVERYTHING is about to get messy.

I also want to take a moment to thank everyone for the reviews and such. Don't be afraid to leave behind your thoughts, lovelies!

Enjoy

x

[Six: Hardships]

_October 9_

**Wrapped in** nothing but a towel, with another in her hair, Hermione walks out of the adjoined bathroom to redress. She's surprised, but not really shocked, to find Draco sitting on the edge of her bed. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaze trained on the floor.

"Hey," she greets him brightly as she walks past him to her dresser.

"Hey," he greets back, his voice low and distracted - like his mind is a million miles away.

She looks at him, taking in his appearance as she pulls on her knickers and bra. He's wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks beat, exhausted, disheveled. Sort of...afraid. She frowns, unwrapping the towel around her head to dry her hair by hand. "Are you okay?" she asks softly, walking towards him.

He looks at her as she crawls onto the bed behind him. She wraps her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder and he sighs, leaning back against her as he closes his eyes. She's warm and comfortable and he just wants to bury himself in her, especially right now.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't know how to say what he needs to tell her. He doesn't know how she'll react, but he knows it won't be well. For the first time in years, he's afraid. Of the known. Of the unknown. Of her reaction. Of his future. He takes a deep, shaky breath. "Astoria's pregnant."

Her eyes widen as she snaps her head back, like he's just hit her. Her breath catches in her throat and her heart sinks while his words sink in. _Pregnant. Astoria_. Her arms, which had remained around his shoulders, slip away as she sinks back on the mattress, subconsciously moving away from him. She swallows a lump in her throat, trying to find her voice. "W-what?" she whispers disbelievingly. She prays she's just heard him wrong; Astoria can't be pregnant. Not with _his_ child.

Draco winces at the sound of her voice – so quiet, so uncertain, so fearful. Like a child. "She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby," he mutters, running his hands through his already messy hair.

She moves even further away from him, pushing herself to the head of the bed. She's never felt more vulnerable around him, in her bra and knickers. She's never felt more betrayed. "I...you... I didn't know you were still sleeping with her."

He hesitates before answering, sounding tired. "I couldn't just stop, Granger. She's my wife."

Her heart clenches at his words and her eyes widen. "Ouch," she mutters, pushing herself to her feet. She grabs her house coat and wraps herself in the soothing fabric in a vain attempt to make herself feel better. It doesn't work, of course. She keeps her back to him, wrapping her arms around her chest.

He flinches, pinching the bridge of his nose. "C'mon, I didn't mean it like that."

She feels defensive all of a sudden, whipping around to glare at him. "Then how'd you mean it?" she demands harshly, ignoring the way his eyes widen at her reaction as he pushes himself to his feet as well. "Because from where I'm standing, it's true. She's your _wife_. _She_ gets to have you in public and give you children and be your family. And I'm just your _mistress. I_ get to fuck you in private and keep your dirty little secrets," she hisses venomously.

He flinches again, reaching out to her desperately. "Granger-"

"Don't 'Granger' me," she snaps angrily, her voice shaking. Her entire body is shaking as she shrugs him off of her and pushes him away roughly. "You don't get to just 'Granger' me after..." she trails off, losing her voice as she blinks back tears.

He watches her, frowning when she leans back against her dresser with her hands over her mouth; like she's literally trying to hold herself together. He wants nothing more than to hold her, to comfort her somehow. He wants to take away her pain and her doubt and just lay down with her and forget the world. She looks lost and confused and...heart broken. "Hermione," he murmurs, not knowing what else to say.

"You should go," she whispers, closing her eyes.

He blinks, staring at her tentatively. He knows he should've seen this coming – in fact he did, sort of. But he'd been, rather naively, hoping it wouldn't come to this. He takes a step towards her and feels a pang in his chest when she takes a step back.

"Please. Go."

He nods slightly, swallowing a dry lump in his throat the size of a golden snitch as he rubs the back of his neck.

The second he disapparates her knees give way and she slips to the floor, dissolving into a mess of salty tears and choked sobs.

X

_October 15_

**"What do** you mean 'It's over'?" His voice is harsh and demanding as he slams the door to his office closed before rounding on her with narrow eyes and flushed cheeks. Within two minutes of entering his office – after six days of avoiding him – she's trying to tell him it's over.

Hermione stands in front of his desk, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. She's made up her mind. She kicks absentmindedly at the carpet at her feet as she tries to convey her thoughts into words. How does she do this? "I...can't do this anymore, Draco," she whispers, looking across the room at him. He looks hurt and genuinely shocked. "I can't be your mistress. I...I deserve _more_ than that. I deserve to be loved in public. I deserve a man who will love me all the time, not just when it's convenient for him. I deserve hand-holding – _real_ hand-holding – and I deserve _real_ dates and I deserve my own happy ending."

He licks his lips, taking a step toward her. "Hermione-"

"And you can't give me that," she adds, interrupting him. "I can't be with you anymore."

"Hermione-"

"What? What, Draco? What do you want from me?" she demands, looking at him expectantly. It wasn't supposed to go like this. She was supposed to come here, end this...affair – because that's exactly what it is – and leave. That's it. He wasn't supposed to try to stop her.

"I...I dunno. I want _you_," he murmurs.

She shakes her head as he takes another step towards her, halting him. "Why? You...you have a wife. You're going to have a baby. And I can't... I can't be in the way, anymore."

He's at a loss for words, unsure of what he's supposed to say to her – to that. Unsure if he should be saying anything at all. She's looking at him as though daring him to say something, anything. Instead he just shakes his head, closing his eyes.

She walks past him quickly, leaving him alone in his office before he can stop her.

**Later that** evening is when he corners her. Nearly everyone in the office is gone as she makes her way towards the elevators, purse and jacket in hand. A hand wraps around her elbow when she walks by the boardroom and she gasps as she's pulled into the empty, plain room. He shuts the door behind them as he pushes her against the wall. She states up at him expectantly as he fixes his angry gaze on her.

"You're something else, Granger," he snaps accusingly.

"Why's that?"

"You think you're so smart, backing me into a corner like that."

"What are you even talking about-"

"You came to my _office_ to do your dirty work so I couldn't stop you," he hisses, glaring at her. "You knew I couldn't do anything about it if we were in public so you chose my office so you could get away. You knew I couldn't chase you-"

"You're wrong," she says harshly, interrupting him before he can finish. "You _could_ have chased me, I just knew you _wouldn't_. That's the different between our _affair_ and your _marriage_. And that's why I'm ending it," she tells him simply. Her voice is calmer than it was this morning, despite the emotions swirling around inside her.

Suddenly everything clicks in his head. She isn't doing it to hurt him – like he's hurt her – but she's doing it to protect herself. She's doing it for all the right reasons, like a true Gryffindor. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at the floor. "Look-"

"Don't," she whispers, blinking back tears. "Don't say anything. Just...we can't do this. _I_ can't do this. I can't just...be your mistress for the rest of my life, Draco. I can't just stand back in the shadows and wait for you to take time out of your life for me – it's not fair. And it's not fair to Astoria or the baby, either."

He nods distractedly as fear grips him. Fear of the baby. Fear of the future. Fear of her walking out of here – out on him – and taking his heart with her. His whole body is shaking and numb and he just wants to crawl into her chest and live there, in her heart, because she's so loving and thoughtful and perfect.  
When she turns to leave he pulls her back, cupping her face in his hands as he rests his forehead softly against hers. "I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't specify, but he doesn't have to, because it's for so many things. He wouldn't even know where to start.

"I know."

X

_October 23_

**The moment** she hears the POP behind her she knows exactly who it is and why he's here. Instead of addressing him, however, she continues to apply her light makeup, even as he hovers in the room behind her.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, mostly in hopes that it'll force him to keep his hands to himself. He looks for any and all signs of the Daily Prophet being in her possession and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees nothing of the sort. Perhaps her paper hasn't even arrived yet.

"I need to tell you something," he announces. "And I wanted you to hear it from me."

"I already saw it," she replies.

He blinks, looking at her curiously through her vanity mirror.

"The front page, I saw it."

He takes several steps towards her. "I was gonna tell you before, but-"

"No worries," she insists, turning around her face him casually. "I knew it was bound to happen at some point. Congratulations, by the way, on making the front page."

"Thanks," he mutters, looking dazed and confused. He still isn't quite sure how he feels. He sighs. "Look, Granger, I...I'm sorry I've put you in this position."

She shrugs, folding her arms over her chest. "It's okay. I mean, it's _not_ okay, but it's... It's okay," she stutters, her eyebrows creasing as she scolds herself internally for sounding so stupid.

"Right then."

"Right."

He instinctively leans down to kiss her goodbye before catching himself, stopping just before his lips make contact with her cheek. He hears her short, stiff intake of air catch in her throat and he closes his eyes, licking his lips as he pulls back. "Sorry," he whispers before disapparating.

He doesn't see the way she reached out for him as he disappears. He doesn't see the tear that trickles down her cheek where his lips had almost touched.

X

**Draco smiles** that fake-Malfoy-smile as his Ministry co-workers congratulate him. Some have papers in their hands and are pointing at the picture of himself and his wife posing for the camera. Astoria is laughing, staring lovingly up at her husband, and while he's smiling back, he doesn't know how everyone can't see how forced it looks.

He knows he should be happy – he is, after all, going to be a father. In just seven months, he will have an heir to the Malfoy fortune. He will have a little boy or girl that he can father better than his father fathered him, that he can raise and love properly. And he's trying. He's really trying to be happy, especially for Astoria – who is over the damn moon with pure joy.

She's already talking baby names and window-shopping for baby clothes. He keeps putting on smiles and sharing in her happiness on the outside but inside his emotions are in turmoil. It's all stress and pressure and confusion mixed with anxiety and doubt and a whole hell of a lot of guilt.

He steps off of the elevator, thanking the co-workers that continue to congratulate him as he slowly makes his way towards his office. His thoughts settle on the woman whose office is just a few doors down and something in his chest tightens and his stomach twists. He can only imagine how she's feeling right now too.

He catches a glimpse of her sitting alone in her office with her head in her hands. Excusing himself politely from a group of witches gushing over the news, he walks down the hall to her office. It was only an hour ago when he went to her flat to warn her about the article, but he still feels like there's more to be said. He lingers in the doorway, leaning his back against the frame as he looks at her.

She knows he's standing there before she even looks up and sees him. He looks sad, apologetic and hesitant. She sighs, shaking her head softly in his direction, silently telling him to leave.

So he does – reluctantly.

X

I hope I've managed to capture those sad, angsty feelings properly.

To be continued…


	7. The Fallout

Hello again, lovelies!

I know I'm posting these chapters quite quickly – like once a day – and it might seem like I don't have a life. But honestly, I wasn't lying when I said I'd already had it all written. At this point all these chapters are just kind waiting to be posted, and I feel bad leaving them unposted for too long.

Anyway, this next part is quite a bit longer than the others and also a bit more angsty than the last. All those comments about Hermione getting her own boyfriend, and making Draco suffer…well, this'll either make ya'll happy or depressed. I can't decide which is better for me, haha.

Either way, I hope you like it! Also, reviews add fuel to posting-fire!

Enjoy

* * *

[Seven: The Fallout]

_November 19_

**She isn't**even entirely sure that's she's ready for what she's about to do, but she's determined to do it. She has to.

Three days ago Terry Boot asked her to go out to dinner with him. Her first thought was to say no, but after careful deliberation she decided to go against her better judgment. After all, who could it possibly hurt – other than a certain blonde who's been glaring at her all day. And besides, it'll make Ginny blissfully happy that she's finally "taking another stab at love."

What Hermione doesn't tell her is that she's only going to prove a point.

Thus, she isn't at all surprised when she hears a distinct POP in her bedroom as she collects her purse out of the closet behind her front door. She rolls her eyes to herself, ignoring him as he calls her name, before checking her appearance in the mirror. She's wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a fancy off-the-shoulder sweater.

"Granger!" he shouts, rounding the corner into the living room.

She turns to him, smiling innocently only to be fixed with an angry glare. "This is a really bad time, Draco-"

"Don't patronize me, Granger. What the hell are you playing at?" he growls, hands of his hips. He hasn't even changed his work clothes.

"Nothing. I'm going on a date."

He snorts, shaking his head disbelievingly. "Yeah. With _Boot,_" he sneers.

"And what's wrong with Terry?"

"Besides the fact that he's a tosser?" he replies, smirking sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes, turning away from him to fetch her jacket.

He steps forward, grasping her elbow in his hand as he pulls her back around. "Granger you could do so much better," he whispers.

"Oh? Like who? _You're_already taken," she points out sarcastically.

He blinks, taken aback, as he opens and closes his mouth, searching his thoughts for a response. And then it all makes sense. He smirks, rolling his eyes at her as he takes a step forward, backing her into the wall. "So that's what this is all about. You're trying to make me jealous."

"It's working, isn't it?"

"Manipulation doesn't become you, Granger."

"How did you even find out?"

"I have my ways."

"Why don't you start paying more attention to your _wife_ and stop _stalking_me."

He smirks. "I'd hardly call it stalking, when it's all everyone's talking about. Imagine my surprise, though-"

"You know what, _Malfoy?_ Not everything is about you," she snaps, pushing him away from her. His cologne is making her dizzy and his intense gaze is making her sick. "I'm going on a date with Terry Boot because I happen to like him. He's smart, he's funny, he's incredibly kind and he's _nothing_like you."

He smirks, despite the bitterness coursing through his veins. "What? Sexy and irresistible?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Cocky. Arrogant. Manipulating. _Dishonourable._"

His gaze narrows as he clenches his fists at his sides. "Like you're any less dishonourable, Granger," he spits.

"Yes, well my only mistake was letting you seduce me," she snaps back. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I'm running late for my date."

"Oh c'mon! You can't honestly say you're interested in him," he protests.

"You can stay here if you like. But I'm not sure how late I'll be out, so don't wait up," she replies, opening her door as she turns to leave.

He panics, reaching for her arm with wild eyes. "Granger-"

"Let go," she tells him harshly, ripping her arm free from his grasp. He takes a tentative step back as though she's just slapped him. "And by the way, jealously doesn't become you."

And yet, as she makes her way down the hall towards the elevator, she smirks.

X

_November 22_

**The minute**she steps onto the elevator she wishes she hadn't. She frowns, coming face to face with the very last person she wants to see. Perhaps she should just wait for the next one.

He blinks, straightening up against the back wall as she steps hesitantly into the elevator. He can see the battle waging behind her conflicted eyes; will she stay or will she wait? "Waiting could take five or 10 minutes, Granger. Might as well just get it over with, I don't bite."

She rolls her eyes as he smirks to himself, sighing as she settles into the corner of the elevator. It's been three days since she last saw him and last she saw him, he was trying to stop her from going on a date. A date, which despite declining an offer for another, ended quite well. She's just not ready, not that she'd ever admit that to him.

If she was hoping for a silent, peaceful ride to the ground floor, she was dreaming. "How'd your date go?"

"Fine," she replies.

"Just fine?"

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "I didn't sleep with him, if that's what you're wondering. And I'm not talking to you about this."

A few minutes pass, which feels more like years, before the doors open and tries to make a run for it – or at least a brisk walk.

"Granger, wait," he murmurs, reaching out for her arm.

"What?" she snaps as he follows her off the elevator and pulls her out of the way of the people lined up to get on.

"I...I just..." he trails off, looking desperate for words as he lets his hands falls limp to his sides. "I want what's best for you."

She blinks, taken aback by the truthfulness and tenderness in his. She nods awkwardly before turning on her heel and rushing away.

X

_December 2_

**For the**first time in what feels like months, Hermione Granger finds herself feeling completely angst-free. She isn't stressed or worried in any way, she isn't constantly looking over her shoulder. And for the first time in weeks she smiles real, genuine smile.

It's probably the two shots of tequila she just took, mixed with the Long Island Iced Tea. It probably also has something to do with the fact that she's hanging out with her friends – her real friends – all together, at the same time. Ginny, Harry and Ronald.

And then she looks over her shoulder and there he is, walking into the pub with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. She freezes, getting lost in his very presence. His blond hair and shoulders are covered in snow flakes and his cheeks and nose are dusted a light pink from the cold air. He's wearing muggle clothing, which makes him look that much better – and younger.

And before she can tear her gaze away, his gaze catches hers – grey on brown. Her breath hitches in her throat and her palms begin to sweat as she watches him look her over. The jean skirt she'd decided to wear two hours ago suddenly feels entirely too short.

"Hey, look! It's Malfoy!" Ginny exclaims, waving him over.

Hermione scolds Ginny inwardly as she tears her attention away from the Slytherins walking towards her – them. And of course Draco decides to stand right next to her, close enough that she can feel the fabric of his jacket brushing against the back of her shoulder.

Everybody exchanges polite greetings and quick "how are you's" before Harry tells the Slytherins to join them for a few drinks. They aren't friends, any of them, but they're acquaintances and co-workers and, apparently, aren't above drinking together these days.

Hermione shifts uncomfortably in her seat as the three men sit down, Draco taking a seat directly across from her. She has yet to even look at him properly, let alone speak to him. Blaise sits next her, placing his arm casually across the back of the chair she's on as he engages her in conversation. He asks about her work and how she likes it and, of course, how she likes working with Draco. Her gaze flits across the table at the blond, who currently staring – glaring – at the two of them speaking. Smirking inwardly, and perhaps a bit drunkenly, she turns back to Blaise, looking innocent-as-ever and says, "It's _alright_." She feels, more than anything, the heat of his steady glare on the side of her face.

And then comes the topic of conversation she should've seen coming and completely forgot about when Ginny brings up the pregnancy. Everything inside her freezes. Her breath hitches in her throat, her heart skips several beats before hammering hard in her chest, and her stomach falls into the pits. She feels sick and light-headed and she knows it isn't from the alcohol. She looks across the table once more at Draco, who looks just as uncomfortable. His gaze captures hers for a moment, sad and apologetic, before he turns his attention back to Ginny and answers.

What she hears, between the clanging of beer mugs and drunken giggles, is somewhat of a blur. _"She's doing great." "We have an appointment next week." "She's hoping for a girl, I think. But I'd rather not have to deal with two women in my house."  
_

He plays the part of an excited father quite well, she decides. Or, perhaps he really _is_excited and is only playing the part of regretful father to please her. Either way it hurts.

Clearing her throat, she murmurs something about needing to go to the washroom. Blaise moves out of the booth to let her out and she walks – sort of runs – on shaky legs towards the women's washroom in the back of the pub. She practically throws herself inside, barreling through the swinging door and stumbling towards the counter. She grips the edge, turning her knuckles white, as she leans her body forward and hangs her head. Her entire body convulses as she struggles to old back the tears she refuses to let fall – yet. Taking a few deep breaths, she raises her head and peers into the mirror in front of her.  
She still looks every bit of the Hermione Granger she's always been, but she feels entirely different. Too old. Too slaggy. Too heart broken.

And then, deciding she's too drunk to be mulling over her many wrong-doings, she straightens her back, fixes her hair and make-up and adjusts her clothes. She takes one last look in the mirror and lifts her chin confidently before spinning on her heel and exiting the loo.

She comes to a halt outside the door when she finds the object of her troubles leaning against the wall with his arms across his chest. She glares at him, making a move to step around him. When he reaches for her wrist, she spins around quickly – a little too quickly – to face him, yanking her arm out of his grip. "Don't you have something better to do than follow me to the bathroom?"

He frowns, looking down at the floor between them. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he murmurs softly.

"Well I'm fine," she snaps.

"You're drunk," he whispers sharply, lifting his gaze to look at her.

She smirks, rolling her eyes. "Not drunk enough, clearly."

**A few**hours later, she's giggling drunkenly as he helps her move through her own flat. He grumbles something unintelligible as he stops to readjust, moving his arm around her waist as he pulls her arm around his neck. In her other arm, she's holding her white clutch and house keys.

"Merlin, Granger," he grunts when her legs buckle. He catches her, shaking his head to himself as she murmurs something along the lines of "whoops" as he continues to guide her down the hall towards her bedroom. "You should've stopped five drinks ago."

"You should've stopped five months ago," she slurs back.

She doesn't say anything more, but he knows exactly what she's talking about. He doesn't say anything as he guides her into the bedroom.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks softly.

"I told Potter I would get you home safely-"

"But why?" she presses.

He sighs, laying her back on the bed gently before sitting on the edge next to her long, smooth legs. "I wanted to make sure you would get home safe," he whispers truthfully. "Gimme your feet."

She closes her eyes doing as she's told, first placing her right foot in his lap. She opens her eyes, watching him beneath heavy eyelids as he pulls her boot – and then her sock – off her foot. She offers him her other foot without being prompted an he does the same. "I'm sorry I've been so hostile to you," she murmurs.

He smirks halfheartedly, shaking his head as he looks up at her. "Don't apologize," he whispers back. "You have nothing to apologize for." He absentmindedly runs his hand up and down her shin as he looks at her. Even with her hair a right sticky mess, her mascara smudged around her eyes and her skirt on sideways, she's beautiful. Only when she sighs, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, does he realize what he's doing and stop. He pulls his hand away quickly but lets it linger awkwardly, longingly. "Um...do you need help changing?"

She nods slightly, pushing herself up on shaky elbows.

He moves her feet from his lap and places them gently on the floor as he pushes himself to his feet. Going straight to her dresser he pulls out a large long-sleeved, grey shirt, a fresh pair of knickers and a pair of white and pink plaid boxer shorts. He chuckles softly when he turns around to see her struggling to get her shirt off over her head.

"Don't laugh," she whimpers, ceasing all movements in a silent demand for him to help her.

Smirking, he crosses the room once more and tosses her clean clothes on the edge of the bed. He takes the hem of her shirt, now wrapped around her elbows and tugs softly, slipping the fabric up her arms and over her head leaving her in her bra. She sways slightly as she undoes the buttons on her skirt before shimmying out of it.

He struggles to keep his mind out of the gutters when she slips off her knickers and kicks them to where her discarded shirt lay on the floor.

"Have you ever redressed someone?" she asks suddenly, placing her hands on his shoulders as he pulls her clean knickers up her legs.

He blinks, taken aback and sort of confused. "N-no... Have you?"

She shrugs, giggling drunkenly. "Just myself."

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Haw-haw, Granger."

Once she's dressed he helps her back onto the bed and under the covers and as he turns to leave, he's surprised by the small, fragile hand that grips the tips of his calloused fingers. "Don't go," she whispers, gazing up at him with sad, tearful eyes.

He nods once, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She curls her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest as he leans against the headboard. There are only a few inches between the tips of her toes and his thighs, but it feels like they're worlds apart. "Are you...are you excited? About the baby?"

He groans, shoving his hands through his hair. "Granger-"

"Please," she whispers.

He hesitates as he looks at her. "I...I dunno."

"Do you still love her?"

"I dunno."

She nods, more to herself than to him as she turns her head to look out the window. "I'm an awful person."

His eyes widen as he instinctively shifts closer. "Wha-Granger, no-"

"I slept with another woman's husband – I took part in an _affair_ with another woman's husband, like it was nothing," she mutters, resting the side of her head on her knee. "I kept trying to back out of it, telling myself that it was wrong and stupid but...I just _craved_ it. It was like a drug, or something. I felt...happy and free. But I wasn't _really_free, was I? I mean, I was just digging myself a hole."

He blinks several times, watching her as she loses herself in her mind. A part of him wants to stop her, to tell her she doesn't know what she's talking about – that she's wrong, but the part that wins out just wants to hear her voice. He's like a starved man, listening to her speak – really speak – to him for the first time in weeks.

"I convinced myself that _she_ didn't matter. That...if you truly loved her you wouldn't have pursued me and that therefore I _deserved_to have you. I thought that...what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, I suppose. I think I just got so caught up in...everything we were doing and everything I was feeling that I didn't really stop think about what it was we were really doing," she admits distractedly. "And...I mean, I knew you wouldn't leave her. I knew that you and I could never...but I hoped and I thought that maybe, just...maybe." She pauses, taking a deep, shaky breath. He can hear the tears in her voice as well as see them in her eyes and he wants nothing more than to bring her into his arms and hold her and tell her that everything will be okay. He can't, of course, but he wants to.

"I was selfish, is what I was. I was just...a selfish slag, sleeping with another woman's husband, telling myself that you weren't even touching her. A-and now that she's pregnant, I...I know I shouldn't care. I know it shouldn't matter to me – and I know I should be happy for you but I just...I can't find it in myself to be happy because I'm just so _not_happy about it. But you," she smiles sadly, gazing at him. "You should be happy. You should be excited. And I feel like the reason you aren't is because of me and that-"

"It isn't your fault, Hermione. None of this is your fault," he tells her softly, interrupting her grudgingly. He moves forward, taking her face in his hands gently as he strokes his thumbs over her wet cheeks. "Please don't cry for me," he whispers.

She laughs, sniffing back tears. "Too late," she murmurs. "Can...can you stay tonight? Just tonight."

He nods, crawling up the bed beside her. He lays on his back and opens his arms for her, which she eagerly accepts, resting her head on his chest and snuggling into his warmth.

This is the first night he's ever spent with her – aside from the night in Italy, which doesn't really count. And this is the first night they've ever spent fully-clothed.

**The next**morning she wakes up alone. Her head is pounding, her eyes are burning and her stomach is in knots. She groans, rolling onto her back as she stretches out among wrinkled sheets. She rubs her hands over her face and rubs the sleep out of her eyes before letting her arms fall limp at her sides. Her eyelids flutter open slowly, taking in the dimly lit room – the sunlight seeping in through the slits in her curtains – and the fact that, unlike last night, she is alone.

She had expected this, of course. And although it's silly and just plain wrong, a part of her had hoped that he might prove her wrong.

She pushes herself into a sitting position, crossing her legs and taking the elastic around her wrist to tie her dirty, messy hair into an equally messy bun at the top of her head. Glancing sideways, she notes the time – 9:34 – and notices a small vile of clear liquid with a note attached. The note, written in Draco's elegant handwriting, says: _Take this, it'll clear any hang-over symptoms_. _Well at least he's thoughtful before he leaves her_, she thinks sarcastically. She almost doesn't want to take it, just to spite him, but the pounding in her head has moved to her temples.

The potion is tasteless and odorless, which is probably a good thing, as it slides down her throat. Within seconds her symptoms clear. Now, if only it could make her memories of the previous night disappear.  
Guilt, dread and embarrassment shudder through her, making her sick all over again as she remembers pouring her heart out to him in her drunken, heart-broken-girl state; she felt like a teenager who was far too drunk and far too easy. She shakes her head in a vain attempt to make the memories go away, but it only makes her dizzy AND sad.

How did she get here? How did she become the woman who bedded a married man – over and over and over again? How did she become the woman who didn't think about anyone else but herself, when she used to be the complete opposite? How did she become the woman who let a man – one like Draco Malfoy, no less – invade every part of her, manipulate her, seduce her? Why did she _like_it? And why, in Merlin's name, did she – the perfectionist that she is – let herself fall in love with him?

Her stomach growls, pulling her out of her thoughts and out of her bed. She ignores her discarded clothes lying on the floor and slips on a pair of fuzzy green slippers – which is ironic, she supposes – and rolls up the sleeves of her too-big shirt.

It isn't until she's halfway down the hall that she hears the coffee maker in the kitchen brewing. The knots returns to her stomach. There's only one other person who uses her coffee maker, which means he didn't leave. It means he proved her wrong. And suddenly, she desperately wishes she was right.

He's standing at the counter, his back to her, still dressed in his clothes from the previous night when she walks into the kitchen. He turns his head, looking at her over his shoulder, and grins. "I was wondering when you would wake up," he comments casually, turning back to his task of making coffee.

She blinks, smiling weakly in response. Her voice is lost on her, somewhere between her brain and her mouth as she sits at the table.

"Did you take the potion I gave you?"  
She nods, and then, remembering that he can't see her, clears her throat. "Y-yes. It helped. Thank you."

"I brought it for me, but I thought you needed it more," he tells her. He's carrying two mugs when he turns back around and walks towards the table.

She takes one, avoiding his gaze as he looks down at her. Her shirt slips off her shoulder and she quickly picks it up, pulling back over and securing the hem underneath her bra strap. Thank goodness she's wearing one.

"Okay?" he asks softly, sitting in the chair across from her.

For the first time this morning, she looks at him properly. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept more than a couple hours and she wonders why before deciding it isn't any of her business. But what bothers her is the look in his eyes – a far cry from the usually playful, lustful, passionate person who used to visit her for morning sex and coffee. His gaze is one of concern, pain and conflict with a little bit of guilt and regret. She looks down at the mug in her hands, into the liquid within – a perfect mixture of milk and coffee. She thinks about his question briefly, before deciding it's too complicated to answer. Instead, she changes the subject. "I'm sorry," she whispers, running her right index finger around the rim. "For last night. I...I wasn't myself and I said some things I shouldn't have said and – I just, I'm sorry." She looks at him sheepishly, like a teenager apologizing to her parents for coming home drunk.

"It's okay, really," he replies softly, leaning back in his chair. "I was actually sort of relieved. That's the first time you've actually _spoken_to me in months."

Her lips stretch into an awkward smile.

"Are you hungry? I can make you breakfast," he suggests, jumping to his feet. He makes a beeline for her fridge.

"Shouldn't you be going home?"

"I owled Astoria this morning – told her I had helped a friend home and decided to stay the night."

She winces at the word "friend." He can't even call her what she truly is – was. A lover. A "girlfriend." A slag, she thinks bitterly. "I think you should go," she whispers.

He places a carton of eggs on the counter before turning to look at her. He looks hurt. "Wow. Just like that, huh?"

She sighs. "What'd you expect?"

"I dunno, Granger. Some compassion? A genuine smile? A 'thanks'? I don't know what to expect because I never know what to expect with you these days," he snaps, frustration evident in his voice.

She opens her mouth to apologize, but then closes it, suddenly becoming angry.

"You're playing me hot and cold, Granger."

Her mouth falls open in disbelief as she jumps out of her chair. "_I've_ been playing _you_? You've got to be kidding me! I've done nothing but tell you to leave me alone for the last few months because your _wife_ is _pregnant_! _You're_ the one who's been playing _me_, Draco Malfoy!" she shouts, pushing him. "You've been playing me for a fool and a mistress and fucking _whore_! You've been keeping me as your dirty little secret, fucking me as your dirty little slut and then fucking your wife when you were done with me. The only part _I've_played is your faithful little pawn."

He blinks, shaking his head as he reaches out for her. "Granger-"

She shrugs him off roughly. "You need to go. Now."

"Hermione-"

"I don't want to see you anymore," she whispers, and the sound of her own voice causes her breath to stop in her throat. He falls back, looking like she's just hexed him. "Outside of work, I don't want to see you. And I don't want to talk to you."

"I..." he trails off, looking at her desperately. "And here I was hoping we could remain friends," he mutters.

"We've never been friends, Draco, so why start now?"

"Because I don't want to lose you-"

"You never should've had me in the first place! No matter what you say or do...this never should've happened."

He swallows a lump in his throat the size of a bludger as he takes a step towards her. "But it did, Granger. You can't just ignore that."

"Why not?" she shrugs, fighting the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "You've been ignoring it the entire time."

He blinks, shaking his head as he pushes both hands through his hair. "So that's it, then? We're just gonna toss this away like it was nothing."

"Wasn't it?"

He opens his mouth to protest. To yell, to scream, to refuse her accusations. Instead he settles for a broken whisper. "You know it wasn't..."

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she turns away from him and wraps her around herself. "You said you wanted what was best for me. Well this is it. I need you to let me go," she whispers, choking on a sob.

His chest tightens. His eyes sting. His vision blurs with tears. His stomach flips and flops and sinks with the weight of a boulder. The words "let me go" swim around in his head, taunting him, searing him. He wants to refuse. He wants to pull her against him, to kiss to her, to convince her not to do this. He wants so much of what he can't have.

She was the only one keeping him sane, while driving him mad, and he can already feel his entire world crumbling at his feet.

With a single nod, he's gone.

**He **takes his anger and frustration and pain out on his living room and when his wife asks him what's wrong, he lies and says its work.

**She **falls to pieces in the middle of her kitchen, sobbing and shaking violently into the floor.

* * *

To be continued...


	8. Changes

You guys are the best. For real. Thank you so much for all of the compliments, especially on the last chapter. It feels so spectacularly good, as a writer, to have so much support. It almost makes me want to post all of the remaining chapters right now – almost. The only reason I'm not going to is because I kind of like the suspense... Haha.

I don't really know how to explain this next part. Kind of angsty, a little bit sad, but also sort of…I dunno…relieving? I think so.

This is the fourth last chapter! That's probably also why I want to drag this out.

Anyway, I hope it's everything you've been looking for. For now…

Enjoy

* * *

[Eight: Changes]

_December 14_

**Draco Malfoy**can't remember a time when he's ever felt this utterly nervous or completely terrified. One time, in second year just before his first Quidditch game compares, but only just. His palms are sweaty, his stomach is in knots and his heart is hammering so hard in his chest he's positive Astoria can hear it from across the room.

He looks out the window of their third story hospital room, trying to distract himself from the impending appointment. It's not that he doesn't want to be there, he just isn't sure he _wants_to be.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?"

He turns his head in the direction of the foreign voice – Astoria's muggle doctor. Astoria, who is sitting on the chair, looking as elegant as ever, smiles pleasantly at the middle-aged woman. He walks over to her, sitting in the chair next to hers, facing both her and the doctor.

Whatever the doctor says next, he pays no attention to as he's far too distracted by his own thoughts. He watches as the doctor lifts his wife's shirt and settles it underneath her breasts. Astoria reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers as she smiles excitedly. He smiles back, resting his chin on his free hand.  
He watches, then, as the doctor spreads some clear liquid over her stomach.

"Just watch the screen."

He does as he's told, becoming mesmerized by the black and white image that appears, listening intently to the static coming through the speakers. Astoria grips his hand hard between her fingers in anticipation – of what, he isn't quite sure. The static noise stops and a steady _thumpthump_ _thumpthump_replaces it.

Astoria gasps, squeezing his fingers even harder, her gaze glued to the image that is slowly changing.  
Draco's eyes widen in shock and confusion and wonder as they fall to her stomach, landing on where the little handheld machine is pressed against her skin. He stares straight ahead, numb from the inside out.

It's all real, now.

He's having a baby.

He's going to be a father.

He feels sick to his stomach and light-headed at the same time, the sound of his baby's heartbeat echoing in his head.

"Draco, look," Astoria whispers, using her free hand to lift his chin.

He looks at her briefly, seeing tears and joy shining in her blue eyes, before his gaze settles once more on the screen. The plain, black and white image has turned into the form a very small person. He scans the image, making sure everything is accounted for – head, torso, arms and legs. He nods distractedly as the doctor informs them both that everything is perfectly fine and that the baby – _his_baby – is perfectly healthy.

"Would you like to know the sex?"

Astoria looks at him questioningly and he looks back, tilting his head to the side, silently telling her it's her decision. She smiles. "Yes please."

The doctor smiles warmly. "In about five months you'll be welcoming a baby girl."

Astoria squeals, beyond blissful as she tugs on his hand, giggling like a schoolgirl. She's all smiles and confidence and assurance.

Meanwhile he's nothing but a mess of emotions he can't quite figure out. More than anything, though – more than confusion and excitement and guilt – he is terrified. Utterly and completely afraid.

X

_December 16_

**Kingsley calls**her down to his office one afternoon.

When she enters the room he is not alone, but motions for her to sit down in the chair across from his desk as he finishes his meeting through the Floo. Once the call ends, The Minister offers her a cup of tea, which she accepts politely despite the fact that she isn't thirsty.

He sits across from her, his own cup of tea sitting on the desk in front of him. "I have a proposal, Ms. Granger."

"Oh?" she asks, her interest peaked. Her eyes widen with curiousity and wonder.

"I wonder if you would like to switch departments. I've heard of your work with S.P.E.W. and have taken the liberty of informing the Care of Magical Creatures department of your efforts. They've put forth a job opening."

She eyes the folder he slides across the desk at her. "What would the job entail?"

"There's a full brief in the file, which I strongly suggest you read."

"Sir, I'm not..." she trails off, unsure of what to say. She likes her job, really. She enjoys coming to work every day – except for the minor fact that she has to work so closely with a certain blond wizard.

"Hermione, I know this would be a massive change for you. But you are ambitious and confident and I feel that you aren't being challenged enough where you are. I think you could do tremendous work with the Care of Magical Creatures department and I think that you might also benefit. Think about it."

"How long do I have?"

"To the end of the week – five days."

X

_December 21_

**She decides**to take the job.

The first person she tells is Kingsley, of course. And the second person she decides should know is Draco.

It's 11:46 when she walks into his office to find him arguing with Astoria. Her heart jumps into her throat and she turns to leave but his voice stops her.

"Granger."

Putting on a fake – but convincing – smile, she turns back around to face her ex-lover and his glowing wife. He frowns, unconvinced by her smile. Her gaze lands on Astoria's growing bump, which renders her speechless for a moment. But only for a moment; she blinks, tearing her gaze away as she clears her throat. "Um, sorry. It can wait."

"No, it's okay. Astoria was just leaving."

The woman in question flashes him a sarcastic smile. "Of course I was," she replies. When she leans forward to kiss him goodbye, Hermione can't help but notice the way he leans away from her. "Bye, Hermione."

"Bye – oh, and congratulations."

"Thanks," Astoria smiles fondly, rubbing her small bump affectionately as she walks away.

Hermione swallows the bile that rises in her throat and closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

When she opens her eyes he's leaning against his desk, his arms crossed over his chest protectively as he stares at her. He's waiting for her to speak, she realizes. She takes a deep breath. "I'm switching departments."

He blinks, looking stunned. "Really?"

"Yes. I finalized it this morning, I thought you'd want to know."

"Why?"

"Opportunity arose and I took it," she replies, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

He looks entirely way too uncomfortable, like he can't decide if he wants to touch her or run away from her. "Is...is it because of me?"

"Not everything I do is because of _you_, Malfoy," she snaps, rolling her eyes. She's vaguely aware that he flinches when she calls him by his last name. She sighs. "This about me and the fact that I need a change."

He nods, his eyes wet ad blank as he looks away. "Okay."

"Right..." she whispers, lingering for far too long in the room. She turns to leave without saying goodbye but his voice stops her in the doorway.

"I hope you find what you're looking for, Hermione."

She looks back at him, returning his sad smile with her own. "You too."

X

_December 25_

**Her parents** coming to visit for the holidays lifts her spirits – especially her holiday ones. She finds herself smiling and laughing more, joking around and having fun. She'd been so distracted by everything with Draco that she'd forgotten how much she really missed her parents. Now, with her parents back in London for the time being, she's being distracted from how much she misses _him_.

Her mother's voice pulls her out of her thoughts as she stirs a pot of gravy on the stove. "Hermione, darling, there's an owl at the window."

Confused, Hermione walks towards the frosty window and recognized the bird immediately. She opens the window and the small, black bird with green eyes drops a box, bigger than itself, into her hands. She trades it for a treat before it flies away.

"A gift? Who's it from?"

"It doesn't say," she murmurs distractedly, although she knows exactly who it's from. Sitting at the kitchen table, she undoes the little green bow before tearing open the silver wrapping paper. She gasps, covering her hand over her mouth in shock.

Within a little wooden box, with a glass door, is a small stuffed teddy bear, light brown with dark brown eyes and a black nose. Removing the lid carefully, she pulls the bear out of the box and fingers it's soft fabric.

There's no note, but she knows what it's for – what it means. A tear trickles down her cheek as her own voice resonates in her mind.

_"I used to have one just like it."_

X

_December 31_

**She attends**the Ministry's Annual New Year's Ball with Harry, Ginny and Ron – opting not to accept a date for the evening by two separate wizards from her new department. Midway through the evening she finds him at the refreshment counter and makes her way over. She taps him on the shoulder, smiling softly as he turns around.

"Hey," he greets her, sounding surprised. He didn't think she would talk to him.

"I wanted to thank you, for the gift. It means a lot," she says softly.

He smiles shyly – and is that a blush spreading across his cheeks – as he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh, you're welcome. I'd had it for months."

Like _Hogwarts: A History._

"You look great," he comments, looking her up and down. He smirks when she blushes too. "Still embarrassed, I see."

"Still cocky, _I_see," she retorts.

He shrugs. "Glad to see some things never change."

She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully. He laughs too and suddenly they're just staring at one another, drinking each other in. The moment is ruined, however, when Ron calls her name from across the room.  
"I should..."

"Yeah, me too."

As she heads off in the direction of her friends, he heads off into the direction of his pregnant wife.

**A few**hours later, Draco kisses her cheek at the stroke of midnight, wishing it were her lips. Hermione wishes the same thing.

Everything and nothing has changed.

* * *

Maybe they're moving on. Maybe not. We'll see.

To be continued…


	9. The Blues

Ya'll are making me blush. Seriously. It feels good, so thank you all so much for your wonderful comments! It makes posting and writing so much more fun!

I present to you chapter nine – a.k.a. the third-last installment. It feels so close, too close. I must warn you: prepare to feel sad, to which I apologize in advance! I think this might be the saddest thing I've ever written. I don't know where it came from, or why I decided to use it, but here it is.

Enjoy :)

* * *

[Nine: The Blues]

_January 5_

**Draco is **awakened in the middle of the night by something tapping against his shoulder. He groans, trying sleepily to move away from it as he buries his face into his pillows.

"Draco..."

"Mmm."

"Draco!" The urgency in his wife's voice shocks him.

He opens his eyes to see her sitting up with her back against the headboard and her arm around wrapped protectively around her stomach. She looks distressed and disheveled and the fear in her eyes sobers him awake completely. "What? What is it? What's wrong?" he asks quickly, sitting up in the bed.

"Something's wrong," she moans.

"What? What's wrong?" he asks, reaching out to her. He places his hands gently on her shoulders.

"What is it?"

"I dunno – there's just – something's wrong with her..."

Her. _Her_. His eyes widen as he rushes to pull back the covers and his stomach plummets when he sees what's underneath. Blood. Everywhere. He panics, throwing himself out of the bed in a frantic search for his wand. "We have to get you to the hospital," he mutter urgently.

Fear – for the baby – grips him for a third time.

X

_January 6_

**It's nearly** midnight when her doorbell rings. She's sitting on the couch watching reruns of The Bachelor – not that she'd ever actually admit it out loud. Her first thought, as she stares at the door in confusion is: _who would be ringing her doorbell at this time of the night?_ Her second, and perhaps most curious: _who does she _know_ would be ringing her doorbell?_

The bell rings again – twice in row – signaling that whoever's on the other side is urgent. She turns off the television, pushing herself to her feet before walking towards the front door. She peers through the eyehole in the door, her chest tightening when her eyes settle on her visitor.

Draco.

What shocks her – and worries her – more than the fact that he is on her doorstep, ringing her doorbell, is his state of appearance. He looks quite disheveled, his hair everywhere, bags under his eyes, a sunken, sort of defeated look on his face. He's wearing a faded old long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dirty old sweat pants. He doesn't even look like himself.

She opens the door and the second the lock clicks, his gaze snaps up. She stares at him and he stares back, looking lost and confused. Heartbroken. "W-what are you doing here?" she asks softly.

He looks down at the floor briefly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Can I come in? Please?"

She nods slightly, stepping aside to let him in. He nods, once, slipping past her into the living room. He seems timid, nervous...scared. Lost. She closes the door behind him softly, turning to face him. She watches him hover in the middle of her living room, like he can't decide what he wants to do or say. "Draco..."

"She lost the baby..." he mutters, bringing his hands out of his pockets. He wraps his arms around his chest, keeping his back to her.

She blinks, caught off-guard. "What?"

He takes a deep, shaky breath as he turns to her, lifting his gaze. "She..._we_lost the baby," he whispers.

"I...I'm so sorry," she whispers back awkwardly. She wants to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow.

"It was gonna be a girl," he murmurs shakily. "I didn't even know if I wanted her and now that I won't have her, I... I dunno what to do with myself. Astoria can't stop crying and I want to comfort her but I don't know how. I don't know how to tell her what I can't even tell myself," he mutters, his voice slurring as he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling.

He's been drinking, she realizes. Only then does she smell the firewhiskey on his breath. He only drinks like this when he's upset about something. The realization that he's so torn up about the loss of a baby he didn't want tugs at her heartstrings and makes her feel sick all at once. She bites her lip. "Draco, I...I dunno what to say-"

"Dammit, Granger!" he shouts, pushing his hands through his hair, growling in frustration. She winces, taking a step back as he begins to pace. "I should be with my wife – I should be there trying to comfort her but I can't because all I wanna do is be _here_." The word "here" comes out as a choked sob.

Her breath catches in her throat.

"I..." he trails off, swallowing the lump in his as he struggles to find the words in his head. "I wanna be with _you_. I wanna crawl into your bed and just...stay there forever – because I know you can fix it. And I know I should be with Astoria, trying to fix it but I dunno how..."

She watches him, with baited breath as he sits down on the couch, his head in his calloused hands. She wants to sit next to him, to brush her fingers through his hair, to stroke his face, to do _something_. But she can't find the strength to move her legs – to move at all, really.

"What am I supposed to say to her?" he mutters.

Her heart clenches and the breath she'd been holding tumbles out of her lips shakily. She shrugs awkwardly, though he can't see her, before whispering, "I don't know."

He looks up at her with sad, fearful, regretful eyes. "Sorry. I shouldn't be asking you that-"

"No – I – it's okay," she stutters quickly. "Just...I don't think there's anything you _can_say, you know?"

He nods, rubbing his hands over the back of his neck.

"Go, Draco. Be with your wife," she whispers softly. "She needs you."

X

_January 13_

**He doesn't **go to work for a few days, taking the time off to relax and...mourn. She's wandered down to his floor to check every day, just to be sure, and every day the lights are off and his office is empty.

Today, however, he's there. He's sitting leaned back in his chair behind his desk. His face is a blank, pale slate, reflecting loss of sleep. In fact the bags under his eyes makes her wonder if he's slept at all since she last saw him.

She raises her hand to his open door and knocks softly. The noise startles him and he jumps in his chair as he looks at her. "Hi," she whispers.

"Come in," he says softly.

She walks in, leaving the door open behind her. "How are you?" she asks hesitantly, lingering near the door.

He shrugs, pushing himself to his feet. "I need to get out of here. Everyone keeps asking me that – and apologizing – and it's driving me mad."

She smiles weakly. "Want to go for a coffee?" she asks softly before she even has a chance to think about it. It won't be a date, she reminds herself before her heart gets too excited  
**  
Half an**hour later they're sitting across from each other in a muggle coffee shop, having both blown the rest of the day off. It reminds her of one of those early mornings where he would make her coffee in her kitchen, just after their morning-sex and just before her shower. But it feels completely different.

She peers at him from across the table and the sight of him makes her sad. He isn't at all lively, cocky or playful. Instead, he just looks...lost. Like he isn't sure what to do with himself. He's sitting slouched in his chair, leaning back with his left hand in his lap and his right playing with the napkin underneath his mug. His gaze is trained upon the mug, unwavering. He's hardly even spoken since they left work.  
"How are you, really?" she asks softly.

He looks up at her, staring for a moment before leaning forward with his elbows on the table and looking down into his mug. "Been better."

"And Astoria? Is she...?"

"We haven't really spoken about it," he admits sheepishly, running his hand through his hair. "We haven't really spoken at all, really."

She blinks, surprised. "Really?"

He nods.

"Why?"

"We just...don't have anything to say, I guess," he shrugs. "Besides, I could never really talk to her anyway. Not the way I talked with you."

Her breath hitches in her throat and her heart skips a beat. "W-what do you mean?"

"I mean...she and I don't really talk. I mean, we do – you know, about work and whatnot, but I can't... _You're_ the only person I've ever actually _spoken_to – about anything."

When he looks at her, she understands. She's the only person he _talks_to, the only person he shares his secrets and dreams and thoughts with. The only thing he's never shared with her – which is something he's never shared with anyone else either – is his feelings.

"I just...I don't know what to say to her to make her feel better. I don't know what to say to make it hurt less – because I don't even know what to tell myself. And I don't know how to tell her that I was never even sure I wanted the baby – how am I supposed to say that? 'By the way, honey, I never really wanted the baby but now that she's gone I'm torn up about it'? I can't..." he trails off, shaking his head as tears shine in his eyes.

"It's okay to be confused, Draco. And it's perfectly normal to be sad," she whispers.

"What about anxious? Or terrified?" he wonders dryly.

She nods, smiling weakly as she takes a sip of her drink.

He nods back, turning his head to look out the window, watching the passersby. "We'd had an appointment less than a month ago and everything was fine," he tells her, unsurprised and sort of...disturbed by how easy it is to talk to her. How easy it's always been. "She was healthy and...they both were. And I was...terrified. I mean the second I heard her heartbeat, I was in awe but then all I could feel was...fear. It just all became so _real_, you know? I wasn't just going to be a father, I _was_a father – and I was so fucking scared, Granger."

"That's normal."

He looks at her. "I was finally getting used to it, you know? I was finally getting used to the idea of being a father and having a...family and – whatever happened came completely out of nowhere. I was asleep and then all of a sudden Astoria was calling for me and saying that something was wrong. There was blood everywhere and – and that feeling of pure, unadulterated fear came back."

Pure instinct makes her reach across the table for his hands. Her fingers curl around his, squeezing reassuringly as she strokes the back of his knuckles with her thumb.

His gaze falls to their hands, joined at the fingers. He clutches her fingers like they're his lifeline. "It was too late by the time we got to the hospital," he mutters. "They had to do a C-Section to get... She refuses to get rid of the scar, but she stares at it every day. And the look on her face when she does – it's like she's empty. Lost. I just...I wish I knew what to say."

"I don't...sometimes there's just nothing _to_say, Draco," she replies softly. "Sometimes there just aren't any words. Sometimes it isn't what you say, it's what you do."

He frowns. "But I can talk to _you_. I can tell you anything – what I think, what I feel...I've just told you everything I can't tell _her_. Although I'm sure the last thing you want to do is listen to this, huh?" He chuckles humourlessly.

She shakes her head. "It's okay, I get it."

"I don't."

She sighs. "Just...hold her. Hug her. Stroke her hair and kiss her forehead and...just _be_there. You don't have to say anything."

He smirks sadly, shaking his head as he leans forward, taking her hand in both of his. He peers across the table at her, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before bowing his head. "How are you doing this? How are you even speaking to me about this?" he murmurs, looking back up at her with wet eyes. "You should be telling me to go to hell for what I've done to you, not-"

"I would never," she denies softly, truthfully. She swallows back tears of her own. "What's done is done. You need someone to talk to and if I'm that person..." she trails off, shrugging her shoulders.

"So selfless," he comments, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. For a moment he looks like the man she remembers. In the following moment, he falls serious. "I don't need someone to talk to. I need _you_. I miss you," he whispers.

She smiles sadly. "I know."

X

_January 16_

**Draco returns **home from work to a cold, silent house. He hangs his jacket in the front closet, places his briefcase on the floor next to the door and kicks his shoes off onto the mat. He then checks the living room, family room and dining room for any sign of his wife – of which there are none. Forcing himself to remain calm, he climbs the stairs to continue his search.

He finds her in the washroom in her bra and knickers. Her hair is dirty, her skin is dry and her face is blank as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. But it's the emotions in her eyes that make his stomach flip. Pain. Sorrow. Regret. _Guilt_. He follows her gaze to the little red scar underneath her belly button.

He sighs, leaning against the doorframe. "Astoria..."

She lifts her gaze, noticing him for the first time. Several things happen at once, then. Her bottom lip quivers, her eyes flutter closed and her knees buckle. He catches her before she hits the ground, pulling her small, skinny frame – she hasn't eaten a full meal since the incident – up into his arms before carrying her into the bedroom.

He remembers what Hermione told him to do.

He holds her. He hugs her. He strokes her hair and kisses her forehead and tells her it's going to be okay even though he doesn't even know it himself.

And it feels different.

Empty.

* * *

Well, you know what they say…you have to hit rock bottom first. I promise things will get better, so stay tuned…


	10. One Ending

SO. I was going to post about an hour ago, but when I got home from work, my parents were watching The Order of the Phoenix. So naturally I've been a bit preoccupied, hah.

Anyway, you guys are seriously the greatest! And I'm so, incredibly sad to say that this is officially the second-last part to this series. I'm looking forward to bringing it to an end, but at the same time I'm not…

With that being said, whereas the last part was also incredibly sad, this one is a little more…light.

Enjoy

* * *

[Ten: One Ending]

_January 27_

**To say** Hermione was surprised when Astoria Malfoy walked into her office was quite the understatement. First, pure panic washed through her at the thought of speaking to her ex-lover's wife – _did she know?_ What if she wanted a confrontation? Should she admit to it, or deny everything? But then, as she considered the woman standing in her doorway, looking soft and timid – and absolutely spectacular, nothing at all like Draco had previously described – the panic was replaced by confusion. And then curiousity - what _was_she doing here? They've never spoken more than a few words to one another. Perhaps she's lost.

No, she was not surprised. She was shocked, flabbergasted and, quite frankly, a little bit scared. So, needless to say, when Astoria wondered if they speak in private, Hermione couldn't help but to say yes.

"How are you?" Hermione asks cautiously, motioning for the woman before her to sit.

Astoria smiles softly, sitting in the chair across from her. "I'm well, thank you."

"I-I'm sorry. For your loss. I can't even imagine how hard it must be."

The witch nods, looking down at her lap briefly before looking back up. "It's getting easier, I think. Better," she shrugs.

"I'm glad," Hermione smiles. "So...what brings you here?"

"I wanted to talk about Draco."

Her heart stops, skipping several beats before finding its rhythm. Her throat runs dry, her stomach flips and her mind runs through a hundred different variations of how this could end. "W-um...what about him?"

"I'm filing for divorce."

She closes her eyes the moment the other witch opens her mouth, waiting for the insult that is sure to come – and then her eyes snap open and she stares, wide-eyed, ahead of her. "What?"

"It's a little bit more complicated than filing for a muggle divorce, what with the legalities of a Pureblood marriage, but I've already spoken to my father – he's a lawyer - and he says it's doable, given the circumstances," Astoria tells her flippantly.

Hermione blinks, still reeling from her initial announcement. "Wait, I'm sorry, I... Why do you want a divorce?" she asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. She ignores the way her heart beats with the knowledge that Draco will be single.

Astoria smiles weakly, her head tilting to the side as she draws in a breath. "I might never be able to have a child. One of the pretenses of our marriage was to produce an heir for the Malfoy family and if I cannot bear him a child then..." she trails off, her hand instinctively falling to her stomach. "Besides, it just isn't working anymore. He didn't even want that baby. I mean, he put on smiles and pretended to be happy but...his heart wasn't in it-"

"He was afraid," Hermione blurts out. And suddenly she feels defensive, like she has to stick up for him. "He was just as upset as you when you lost the baby, Astoria."

"I know he was. I know that he was afraid and I know that in the end he had wanted the baby after all," she admits, looking down at the name plate on the edge of the desk. "It isn't about the baby."

"But then why?"

Astoria smiles softly, but it doesn't quite reach her sad eyes. "He loves me, I know he does. But he isn't in love with me because his heart belongs to someone else."

Hermione blinks, her breath catching in her throat.

"He isn't happy with me."

"It's over, Astoria," she whispers sheepishly, her cheeks turning pink. "It's been over for a while."

"I know," Astoria laughs. "I knew the moment it ended because he was miserable." Hermione opens her mouth to reply, but Astoria shakes her head, silencing her. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything, I just... I just need to do this. I think we both just need to start fresh – all of us," she says pointedly.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asks.

"I wanted you to hear it from me. And I wanted you to know that there are no hard feelings. I know what it's like to lose your head – and your heart – to Draco Malfoy," she giggles.

Hermione can't help smile and roll her eyes.

"Also, I wanted to tell you I'm leaving England."

She blinks, staring at her incredulously.

"After I file for divorce and speak with Draco, I'll be traveling the world."

"Why?"

"I need to...find myself again," Astoria breathes. "I need to find my purpose. I need to figure out who I am without Draco and without...the possibility of having a child. You understand, don't you?"

Hermione nods, and it feels like whatever's been sitting on her chest and clouding her judgment for last several months has been lifted. "I do."

X

_February 2_

Hermione is startled when she returns home from the grocery store to find Draco sitting in her living room. He's sitting on her couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together and his head hung low. He looks up at her when the door opens, and she freezes in the doorway, and smiles softly.

"I would've waited, but the wards were still open for me," he tells her, pushing himself to his feet. There's a confident, playful undertone to his voice, hidden behind the hesitancy.

She nods, kicking the door shut with her foot before walking past him into the kitchen. He follows at her heels. She puts the grocery bags on the counter and turns away from him to take off her coat. When she returns, adjusting her sweater, he's already unpacking the bags and putting things away. Without a single spoken thought, she joins him.

"Astoria and I have filed for divorce," he announces, placing three cans of vegetables in a cupboard next to the window. "But you already knew that."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me she went to see you? Why didn't you tell me she planned to divorce me?"

"She asked me not to," Hermione replies, shrugging her shoulders casually as she places a bag of apples in the fridge.

"What is she, your best friend now?" he sneers.

She spins around, glaring at him. "She's a woman who _confided_in me, knowing I'd fucked her husband," she snaps. "So it was the least I could do." She'll never admit it to him, but that very revelation has haunted her ever since. When he doesn't reply, she turns back around to dispose of the bags.

"She's fond of you," he says softly. "Says you're a good woman and that even though she should hate you, she doesn't. She's sympathetic, I think, because _apparently_I have a tendency to make women do crazy things."

She stifles a giggle before collecting herself. "What are you doing here?" she demands, putting her hands on her hips as she turns back to face him once more.

"I was hoping we could start over," he murmurs.

She raises her eyes brows in awe. "Less than 24 hours and you're already moving on. I feel so special. Come to think of it, that's a nice message to send your wife – because she is still your _wife_."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like that-"

"I won't be your second choice, Draco," she mutters, looking down at the ground.

He blinks, staring at her incredulously. "Second choi-Granger-" he cuts himself off, breathing through his nose to control some of his temper. "I would've chosen you if Astoria hadn't-"

"But she did get pregnant, because you were still sleeping with her," she snaps, her gaze snapping up to meet his. She regrets the harshness behind her tone immediately.

He frowns. "Granger-"

She sighs, shaking her head slightly. "Look, I'm not mad, I'm just... You're getting a divorce. You just lost a _baby_. Astoria is traveling the world to get away from you so she can figure out who she is. Maybe you need to do something of the same – maybe we both do," she whispers.

X

_February 14_

**Her heart**flutters when she sees the small, silver box waiting for her on her desk. She hangs her coat on the hanger and places her briefcase next to the box before picking it up. She knows who it's from before she even opens it.

Her breath catches in her throat and her stomach drops when her gaze lands on what's inside. And despite the fact that she's alone, the colour rises in her cheeks. Sitting amongst white cotton acting as a cushion, is small, white gold otter pendant attached to a thin chain. A necklace. Everyone knows that her Patronus is an otter, but only one person knows why. She smiles fondly, tears prickling the her eyes as a regretful happiness fills her chest.

A rustling noise at her door pulls her out of her thoughts. She looks up, not at all surprised to find him standing in her doorway.

He grins, pushing himself away from the wall with his hands in his pockets. "Before you say anything, don't. I know it seems like it's for Valentine's Day, seeing as it _is_Valentine's Day, but it's not. It's just...to say thank you. For everything," he says softly. "You've been...wonderful – even when you shouldn't have been. Hell, even when you were pissed at me."

She laughs softly, sniffing back tears. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Here," he murmurs, taking the box out of her small hands. He holds it in his left, lifting the necklace out with his right. "I'll put it on, turn around."

She does as she's told, holding her breath as she stands with her back to him.

He gulps back a small lump in his throat, his gaze traveling from her nice, round bum, up her sides, across her back and to her creamy white neck. He can still taste her sweat on his tongue and feel her skin on his lips. He's all thumbs as he unclips the clasp. He brings his arms around her shoulders, settling the chain over her collar bones and clasping it around her neck. His fingers brush against her skin, sending shivers through his entire body.

She turns back around, cheeks flushed.

He grins, pulling his hands back. "Beautiful." He lifts his right hand, brushing his knuckles against her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, pulling away from him just when he starts to lean down. "You should know...I'm leaving England for a little while," she whispers.

He blinks, taken aback. "Y-you are?"

She nods. "For six months. I'm going to live my parents with Australia."

"Wow, that's..."

"Stupid?" she laughs nervously.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I was gonna say brilliant, actually. I think this is the least stupid and reckless and completely awful decision you've made in a long time," he teases.

"Gee, thanks," she mutters playfully, rolling her eyes.

"When do you leave?"

"Next week."

X  
_  
February 20_

**"So this**is it, huh?" Draco asks glumly, sitting on the edge of her bed as she walks to and from her closet, packing the rest of her clothes. He watches her, running his thumb over the soft fabric of her suit case – which she's charmed to carry, well, everything. His stomach has been knots for the last 24 hours.

"Yeah. This is it," she breathes, tossing her last shirt into her suit case before zipping it closed.

"Excited?"

She smiles, nodding her head. "And completely terrified."

He smiles back sadly. "I'm gonna miss you, Granger. I dunno what I'm gonna do to occupy my time while you're gone. Who the hell am I supposed to annoy?" he teases.

"I'm sure you'll find someone," she giggles.

He laughs, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, it's only six months."

"Yeah, only," he mutters, looking down his shoes.

She frowns, sitting next to him on the bed. "I'm gonna miss you too, Draco," she whispers softly. And she will, more than anything.

He looks sideways at her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. Her eyelids flutter closed, leaning into his touch as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against here. "Don't go," he pleads. "I...I don't want you to go."

She opens her eyes, looking at him tenderly. "I'll be back-"

"Six months is a long time, Hermione. Just...stay. The divorce is being finalized as we speak – we can figure this out."

She pulls back, smiling softly. "Tell you what," she starts. He looks hopeful. "If you're still interested in six months from now, then yes, I'll figure this out with you. If you're not, then-"

"It isn't meant to be," he finishes.

She nods.

"Okay," he nods. "Deal."

* * *

To be continued, just one more time...


	11. Another Beginning

I don't know if I want to giggle because you guys are just so awesome and supportive, or cry because this is the end. Either way, I want to sincerely thank all of you who have shown your support and enthusiasm throughout this very dramatic, emotional, angsty, fluffy adventure of mine. It means so much to me that everyone seems to have enjoyed reading this story just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

When I started this, I honestly wasn't sure what kind of a reaction I would get. I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but this is much, much better. I'm just glad you guys understand what I call my Dramione Imagination, and I'm especially glad that I got the chance to share this with you.

Anyway, that's enough of my babbling. This next part is incredibly short compared to the others. I decided to make it short and sweet and incredibly fluffy. This is the end! But it's not really the end, is it? Because there's no _real _end to Draco and Hermione – especially in my world.

So without further ado, because I just don't want to wait anymore, here's the final installment!

Enjoy

* * *

[Epilogue: Another Beginning]

_Six Months Later  
August 18_

**Hermione Granger**is all tanned skin, shoulder length curly hair and yellow sun dress as she steps off the elevator on her floor. She's carrying her purse over her right shoulder while lugging her suitcase behind her. Her flight landed just half an hour ago; she'd taken a taxi from the airport. She could've just apparated straight to her flat from her parent's home in Australia but she needed the time to calm her jumbled nerves. Although, it seems, neither the flight or the car ride has provided her with enough time to calm the aching feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And despite the familiar knots taking residence there, she feels like a new woman. Confident. Independent. Healthy. Fearless. She's found herself again. And for the first time since falling into that wild, tumultuous, emotional roller coaster of an affair, she knows exactly who she is.

And whether He decides he's still interested or not, she is determined to find happiness.

As she walks down the hallway towards her apartment, she finds herself reflecting on what she's coming home to.

Harry has just been made Head Auror.

Ginny is _finally_pregnant after several months of trial and error.

Ron has proposed to Lavender, who is currently driving him mad with wedding preparations.

Terry Boot is dating Pansy Parkinson – go figure.

Neville finally worked up the courage to ask Luna out last weekend, before losing it all over the floor.

Luna still plans to go on the date.

And Astoria has found love, in Paris, with a muggle.

As for Draco, well-

-her breath hitches in her throat as she rounds the corner. She stares, frozen at the sight before her. It's nothing, really, just a man in a tuxedo, leaning against her door with a goofy grin and playful, passionate grey eyes. His blond hair is longer – but not by much, he's grown some light stubble across his jaw and has he always been that tall? That wide? That...handsome?

Her vision begins to blur from unshed tears. She sniffs them back, walking on shaky legs towards him.  
He pushes himself away from the door and only then does she notice the bouquet of flowers in his arms. Her heart soars, beating wildly in her chest; she can hear it in her ears.

Only one thought comes to mind. _He's interested_. And suddenly it doesn't matter that she hasn't spoken to or heard from him in four months. It doesn't matter that she spent her whole flight chewing apart her lip and playing with her hair like a ridiculous teenager. It doesn't matter that while a part of her was determined to move on completely, she was ready to throw herself into a ball on her bed and let her heart break just one more time.

She stops halfway down the hall because the air keeps choking her and her legs are threatening to fail her and, quite frankly, she just doesn't know to do with herself.

He's the first to break his silence and his voice is like gold.

"This is probably lame, I know," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But I did some research – and by research I mean I watched some of those disgustingly romantic muggle movies and in about 95 per cent of them there were men in suits with flowers – and this is all I could come up with." He grins cheekily, his eyes shining with mirth. And then, all at once, his demeanor is serious. Tentative. "I don't know how to do this, Granger. I don't know to ask you out without making it all about how charming and good looking I am. I don't know how ask you to give me another chance without making it sound like I'm trying to manipulate you. I don't know how a guy like me can end up so completely infatuated and smitten by a woman like you, who is so perfect and brilliant and so far above me. I don't know how to tell you that even though cheating on my wife was stupid and selfish and reckless, it was the best thing I ever did because I found _you_. I don't know how to convince you that I'm interested – that I will always be interested, because I'm in love you – but I'm really hoping I don't have to try for much longer because this suit is suffocating me. I'm hot, I'm sweating, I've been here for hours, waiting, because I was paranoid that you would be early and my opportunity would be gone and-"

Whatever he was about to say – whatever he had planned to keep saying – is lost on him the moment her lips and body collide with his. She throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist – not caring that she's only wearing a dress. Her lips are soft and delicious, moving perfectly against his. His body remains rigid at first, shocked and confused, but then she moans. And he's like putty in her hands, his body curling around hers, supporting her weight as he pushes her against her front door. He groans against her lips, his tongue begging for permission into her warm mouth. She tastes like peppermint toothpaste, chocolate milk and _home_.

She pulls away, panting, and he let' his face fall into the crook of her neck, pressing himself against her. She strokes his hair, resting her head back against the wall. A happy, lazy, playful smile plays on her lips as she brings them to his ear. "You've got to stop stalking me, Malfoy," she rasps, breathless.

He smirks against her neck before pressing a soft kiss to her sun-kissed skin. "Only if you stop running."

She giggles, then, only to be silenced by his hungry, desperate, loving lips.

* * *

Fin!

[I just wanted to add, in case any of you faithful readers have been waiting/looking for it, that I haven't given a clear reason as to why our Draco pursued the affair in the first place. Mostly because sometimes there just isn't a reason; because sometimes things just happen. I wanted to make it mysterious and more about the attraction and the relationship between lovers, than about the circumstance itself. Anyway, thank you guys again!]


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